The Complexity of Fate
by Aquma
Summary: An AU version of second season, with new characters and story turns. It starts just after 'Samson & Delilah'. J.C./Cameron relationship very important to the story, followed closely by J.C./Sarah and J.C./Derek
1. Chapter 1

Foreword:

_I'm trying something a little bit different this time, in another setting and another time. I wanted to have some fun with the characters i didn't get to play with during my work on the 'First time...'._

_ This story will be an AU version of the second season, starting just after 'Samson & Delilah' (though not exactly, as you'll know just after the prologue ^^ ) and in the beginning it'll focus on the challenges that episode, and the one ending the first season, left John with. It'll go its own way, however, and quite quickly at that, so expect new turns in the story, as well as some new characters. The existing ones will also follow a different route then in the show._

_ Expect the story to be a lot longer then my first work, i think it'll be around 100k words, in about 20 chapters, or so. Unless it grows on me, which it might._

_ Also, this is NOT a prequel to the 'First time...', making it AU to that story too. So you can't be sure of anything and anyone, really ;p_

_

* * *

_

*** Prologue ***

_~ 7th November 2010 ~_

_~ Log Angeles suburbs, California ~_

Two men stood opposite to each other in the rain. Big drops of water fell on their faces, ran down their shoulders and clothes that were already too wet to hold more. Their breaths, heavy with barely controlled emotions were the only sound braking through the constant hum of the heavy rain.

Lightning flashed nearby, brightening their hardened faces for a slight moment and a perceptive observant could probably notice a hint of a family resemblance in them, despite a considerable age difference. Both of them were quite handsome, though the younger one's face was marked by a hideous 'Y'-shaped scar on its left side. The older's features, one the other hand, were a lot harder, complemented by a several days old stubble and unkempt, now also completely wet, hair.

All of those differences, however, were dispelled by the eyes, piercing each other with intensity, stubbornness and anger that seemed to make them mirror reflections. They didn't break each other's gaze even for a fraction of a second.

"I'd sooner beat you to death here, then allow you to do it.", the older one said quietly, his trembling voice barely audible thorugh the storm.

Having said that, he clenched his fists and raised his hands in a guard, slightly shifting his legs for better balance.

"I could say the same.", the youngster responded firmly, a slight hint of arrogance in his voice, nonchalantly sliding his jacket, heavy with water, off his shoulders and letting it drop into the mud at his feet. "It's about time...", he added, raising one hand and flippantly inviting his opponent with a delicate move of two fingers, "...you learned something from me, Reese."

"The only thing i can learn from you, boy, is how to make a fool of yourself.", he heard a growl back, "and even for that, it's way to early yet."

And then the man leaped in a blur, like a panther, brightened by another flash in the skies, aiming a powerful blow right at his nephew's jaw. He had an advantage, in strength and experience both, so he could allow himself a little more recklessness in his movements. He wanted it to end quickly and painfully, he hoped the humiliation would only make the boy remember this moment more, despite the fact that the outcome of his defeat alone would give him reason enough for remembrance...

The youngster surprised him, however, evading his blow easily, moving to the side and launching a powerful knee into his torso, followed by a blindingly fast spin and a roundhouse, off-hand blow to the head, while he was still stunned by the kick.

Derek crashed heavily into the ground, splashing mud around with a loud squelch, droplets of water shining in yet another flash of an angered sky.

"You're underestimating me.", Connor stated the fact, moving slightly away and looking at his uncle slowly getting up, shaking his head.

And while he did so, with a mixture of pain, surprise and sense of pride on his face, Derek knew that the boy was right. He'd made a mistake. He underestimated him. Looking now at the powerful, swiftly moving figure in the rain, it wasn't a boy he was seeing. It was his General. And underestimating General Connor was a grave mistake, even if he was only 19 years old.

The man spat some blood out, and wiped his mouth.

He didn't know where his nephew learned to move like this, and he clearly didn't imagine this confrontation's beginning to look this way, but he wasn't going to give up on his vision of its ending. Even if right now, looking at him, it made him feel like a traitor.

_For your own good, boy. , _he thought with determination, clenching his fists once more. _I should've done this years ago._

A thunder growled in the distance, and both figures moved suddenly, as if it was a signal, breaking into a bloody dance.

Neither of them was going to step back. The stakes were too high...

* * *

*** Chapter I ***

_~ 14th November 2007 ~_

_~ Los Angeles, California ~_

A pair of piercing, green eyes was was looking at him firmly from a wounded face. Short, badly cut hair stood up fiercely, giving his reflection a slightly rebellious look. The boy moved his hand over them, shaking off some free flocks, and looked at his face once more, feeling himself being drawn, unwillingly, into the world of memories...

_...He unclenched his shaking arms, letting the body fall to the floor, his mind blank like a sheet of paper. He felt himself shiver, when the man's ghastly, unseeing gaze seemed to meet his own... _

A sudden knock on the bathroom door was what brought him back.

"Yea?", the boy asked, without turning from the murderer's face looking at him from the mirror. Did he imagine the contempt in his reflection's eyes?

"I made you a sandwich.", he heard his mother's voice. "Brought you some clothes."

"I'll be out soon."

For a moment the only thing disturbing the silence was the sound of her moving, just behind the door.

"John... i want to you know everything that happened today...", Sarah started, after a while uncertainly, "everything we did...it was all...it just happened the way it did...and there's nothing we can do to change it..."

His treacherous mind turned into another alley, showing him yet another unwanted memory of today. The worst day of his life.

_..."I love you! I love you, please... I love you John, and you love me!", she screamed pleadingly looking at him, brown eyes shining with tears... He felt those words stab him like a dagger, straight to the soul, felt them echoing inside him..._

His hands gripped the cold, smooth surface of the washbasin, still full of brown, clumsily cut hair. He stroked it absently. It reminded his of the...

_...the weapon felt heavy in his hand, when he was looking into his mother's terrified eyes. He saw Derek's and Charlie's faces too, at the edge of his vision. All three of them stared helplessly at the scene playing out before them, their eyes following the slowly rising girlish figure and the boy holding them under his gun..._

The boy shook his head, trying to return to reality, to get out of his pained mind. He tried in vain, however, it wasn't possible.

"Whatever happened, we're alive... Ok? we're alive...", the voice of his mother behind the doors broke slightly. "I know you need more from me today, but... it's gonna have to be enough..."

John was still quiet, deep inside the darkess of his own nightmares.

_Why did i do it?_, he asked his reflection in the mirror silently. _How could i... how could i point a gun at my own mother?_

"Can you hear me?", she asked weakly on the other side. "If you're listening..."

"Yeah, i'm listening."

"Happy birthday.", she added quietly, irrationally, and a horrible, sad irony stabbed like a needle into his heart, even though he knew that was not her intention.

_Who am i?_, John Connor asked himself, combing his hair with a hand once more.

He didn't know the answer. He knew, however, that he had to find it and he had to do it soon. Before someone gets hurt...

* * *

Sitting on a bench, John looked emptily on the sculpture of a crucified Christ hanging above the altar. It was a bit raw, with all its too vivid blood and a blunt crown of thorns. The boy had always found it strange, that the symbol of hope and redemption was such a brutal and painful image.

_Redemption, eh?, _he thought bitterly, biting his lip.

"Did you sleep?", Derek asked, coming into the room and passing John to stand near Sarah.

She shook her head.

"What do you do with a guard dog you can't trust?", the woman answered him with a question, and John felt his gaze linger, without his consent, to the girlish figure standing nearby. Her face still wore signs of yesterday's hardships, brown hair was in a mess. Looking at her the boy felt a myriad of emotions flood over him, from anger, through disgust, a shadow of fear and ending with an overpowering sense of relief. Questions, still left unanswered, started to push themselves up in his mind again, but he firmly pushed them back.

He wasn't ready for this yet.

"What? That one?", Derek answered his mother, throwing a look at the cyborg and then, he nodded his head at the suffering sculpture. "I spent the night talking to him."

"I think she's outside his jurisdiction.", Sarah said with strange look on her face and the man clearly didn't know what to make of it himself. "Just a wire knocked loose, or something.", she added looking at her son."So he says."

The boy stood up, streching his bones.

"Bitch is nothing but wire.", Derek remarked, looking at him and John knew who those words were meant for. Irritated, he rushed between them, purposely, marching towards Cameron. "It's only a matter of time.", he heard behind him as he walked.

_Everything is a matter of time._, crossed his thoughts angrily in response. _The world is fucking ending._

Cameron raised her eyes at him when he came closer.

"It's healing quickly.", he mentioned looking at the wounds on her pretty face.

"Quicker then yours."

"What about the rest of you?", he asked. "You back to normal?"

She looked at him in some strange, mysterious way. Big brown eyes seemed to search for something inside of him, studying every inch of his face.

"Things have changed, John.", she finally answered.

"What things?"

"You can't be trusted anymore."

He felt a great, crimson river of anger rising inside of him. He clenched his fists, then unclenched them, trying to stay in control.

"_Me._", he said, narrowing his eyes. "_I_ can't be trusted anymore?"

"You risked your life to fix me.", Cameron explained calmly. "That was a very dangerous thing to do. That could upset people."

The boy looked over his shoulder, at Sarah and Derek still standing there.

"They'll have to deal with it.", he decided firmly, but his cyborg only titled her head a little.

"Not them.", she answered and walked by him, towards the exit. John followed her with his eyes, in complete incomprehension until he heard his mother's voice next to him.

"What did she say?"

He shrugged, moving his eyes to her.

"Nothing."

A moment of awkward silence came between them. Sarah looked at her son, trying to decide if it's worth it to push the issue.

"You should go to shool.", she said finally, changing the subject. "Start on a new place."

John looked at her incredulously, rising his eyebrows.

"School, mom?", he asked. "Really?"

"You always talk about how english is so boring...", she started, but suddenly, something in her son's eyes told her to stop.

John shook his head slightly, rising his hands. He looked at them for a while and something seeemed to fight on his features.

_I'm going to live like before? As if nothing happened?_

He raised his head slowly, looking at the sculpture above the altar and feeling those words echoing inside his mind. A moment later, as quickly as it sparked, the battle inside him was over. Slowly, he shook his head once more.

"There's a lot of things i need to learn, mom.", his voice was quiet and piercing. "English, however, is not one of them. And boring is the last thing i need right now."

"John...", Sarah started once more, but he stopped her, rising his eyes to meet hers.

"No. I'm tired of preterding i have a normal life. I'm tired of even trying to pretend. I think it's about time we all faced the truth, looked at how the things really are. Starting with me.

"And how are they?", she asked him with a growing anxiety, cold shiver running down her neck.

"I've become a murderer at the age of 16, mom. That's how they are.", he responded, looking coldly at the grimace of pain at her features and noticing Derek, a little farther, suddenly turning his head in their direction. "And nothing will ever be that same. There's no turning back now, no normality."

He passed her by, going in Cameron's footsteps, but stopped for a moment near the entrance.

"We'd better concentrate on looking for a new place for now.", he added, looking over the shoulder. "I'd prefer something with a large garage."

And with this words, he left, leaving them crushed in awkward silence.

* * *

Georgie Reynolds looked at his discovery with interest, trying to come up with any explanations that made sense, and finding it disturbingly hard.

The crime scene was surrounded wirth a yellow police tape, but it was night already, and sliding along the law's edge wasn't a problem for Georgie. He worked in this bussisness far too long to have any reservations like that, knowing very well that a good private investigator needs to be able to work as well outside the law, as he does inside it. And Georgie was one of the best.

Kneeling near the destroyed jeep, the bulky, 46 years old man threw a look at the ruined house, illuminating the structure with his hand flashlight. Then he followed the strange, wondrous traces right to the place he was kneeling at. The trace was a strange, irregular line and if not for his years of experience he probably would've missed it, a slight trail on the dark asphalt. Reynolds had good eyes, however, and noticing details was his work for almost a quarter-century.

_The car explodes._, he mused in his mind, trying to objectively analyze what he's seeing. _After the explosion._, he scowled, with no understanding for his own thoughts. _Yes, definitely after the explosion, a single person leaves the driver's seat, leaving slight marks of soot nearby._, his eyes moved along the street, following his flashlight. _He's strong and heavy, enough to be wiping his shoe's sole off, slowly, when he limps because of an injured leg. He walks towards the house and dissapears inside..._

He shook his head, looking incredulously at the ruined car, once more.

"But how, for fuck's sake, did he survive this?", Georgie asked rhetorically. "And why does the distance between his feet, and the size of them, suggest the figure of a teenage girl, yet the same foot's prints in mud, a little bit farther, point towards someone as heavy as a muscular, athletic guy?

He smiled slightly under his breath, scratching his almost bald head. Even if he forgot about the gigantic amout of money his client offered today, up front, this case just became exceptionally interesting. Georgie liked a challange.

* * *

Roadside motel rooms were never on the list of John's favourite places and this one wasn't an exception. His bed stinked with God only knows what and the walls screamed loudly, pleading for a repaint. He also had an honest hope that the stain on the carpet came from a tomato juice, even though the bullet holes on a nearby wall made that hope kinda futile. The image of terror was completed by an old, just barely working TV, which channels he switched now, half-heartedly.

They stopped here after spending most of the day looking for a new home. All of them agreed that stretching the hospitality of a priest that was already very generous and helping, would not be fair. The only choice left was a motel.

_At least they paid for cable..._, the boy sighed inside, and glanced at the nearby bed.

Derek sat there, cleaning his weapons with monotonous, practiced moves. He was just putting together one of two Glocks lying on the bed, his face focused, eyes devoid of any visibile emotion. At first, John was afraid the experienced soldier will ruin his evening with preaching about machines and unhealhy attachment, considering they were alone in the room, but nothing like that happened.

_Perhaps i'm judging him too hard too..._, passed through his mind. _After all, he lived in a world i can't even imagine. For now, at least..._

"If that guy from check-in came here right now.", the boy said amusedly. "He'd probably get a heart attack. Or called the cops."

His uncle shrugged his shoulders, a shadow of a smile on his lips.

"Or both. Though, considering this place, i think he sees the same in every other room.", he answered. "To sleep in a place like this, you've gotta be either poor, or at odds with the law.", and then with a broader smile he added. "Or both."

"We're not poor yet.", the boy replied, returning his smile.

"Wait until your mother finds that new house.", the older man remarked and then both of them chuckled, amused. Then a silence fell, interrupted only by slight murmur of the TV, when some policemen pursued mobsters in a stupid holywood movie on the screen. The boy couldn't even remember the title.

"So...", Derek started uncertainly after a while. "How do you feel, John? Everything alright?"

"Huh?"

The man shook his head slightly.

"C'mon, you can't fool me. You know what i'm talking about."

The youngster didn't respond for a longer while. In all truth, he wasn't completely sure what his uncle was getting at, though his intuition hinted that the other topic, one he was afraid of all evening, wouldn't get such a delicate handling from the grizzled soldier. He still didn't really know how to answer, however, so he remained silent. Then, just when the older man was coming to a conclusion that they won't talk about it today, the boy suddenly whispered softly.

"I don't... don't know, Derek. I knew yesterday. There wasn't a minute i wouldn't remember how...", he trailed off and covered his eyes with a hand. "But today everything is... like a dream. I'm affraid i'll forget completely soon..."

He heard the sound of heavy footsteps, and a moment later felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You won't forget it, boy.", said his uncle's voice and there was a sadness in it, but also a certainty, one that can be born only from experience. "You won't"

The youngster dropped his head and felt his lips quiver.

"He... he wanted to kill mom..."

The older man just nodded his head.

"He was a mobster, John. If someone leads a life like that...", he paused, as if lookig for the right words. "If you live by the sword, then you die by the sword."

The boy didn't answer. His uncle gave him another light squeeze on the shoulder and turned back to his bed. When he was almost there, though, his newphew spoke once more, quietly.

"Derek?"

"Yea?"

"Thank you."

The man smiled slightly, lying down on his bed and trying to make himself comfortable between holes and springs sticking out of the mattress.

"No problem, boy.", he finally answered. "You're welcome."

* * *

Lying on her bed Sarah fought with irratation. In a fit of decency, she proposed moving to a motel herself, and now, she got what she asked for and wasn't happy, being in a dirty little room with a cyborg, standing near the window, as her only company. She would've liked to be with her son right now, being very concerned about what was happening with him since yesterday. She would've liked that a thousand times more but she knew Derek wouldn't stand spending a night in the same room as the metal.

_And will i stand it?_, she asked herself with a sigh, fearing she won't sleep a wink again, today. She looked at the Source Of All Evils, calmly brushing her hair. Staring at the 'girl' she almost felt the wound on her stomach, where the cyborg's little foot was pressing visciously just yesterday, ache again.

"I'm sorry.", suddenly came from near the window.

Sarah blinked, without comprehension.

"What?"

"You are touching your belly.", Cameron explained, turning her head slightly to look at her over the shoulder and the woman realized she's telling the truth, and moved her hand. "I did this to you. I'm sorry."

Sarah closed her eyes tiredly and lied her head on the pillow, moving some wet, dark strands out of her face.

_Why does she have to be that way, sometimes..._, she murmured inside. When everything seemed easy and transparent, she would suddenly make a turn and act almost... _No! She just looks differently and it makes me pity her. _It was all the looks. All in the damn looks. _Oh, damn him, why couldn't he just have sent another 'Uncle Bob'?_

Things would be so much simplier if he did...

"Just... don't do it ever again.", she heard herself answering irrationally, and it only served to irriate her more. She knew, after all, that the machine had no choice in the matter, or any other matter, while we're at it.

Cameron didn't respond.

And when Sarah was slowly drifting into an uneasy sleep, the one thought, recurring like a nightmare in her mind was:

_Why _did_ he send something like... this?_

_

* * *

_

They found a house the next day. A solid, 2-storey building with a lot of free space, a big garage and driveway large enough to allow several vehicles. It was on the suburbs, the neighbourhood was quiet enough and price quite steep, but Sarah firmly refused to continue searching, mumbling something about motel rooms under her breath, and paid the landlord for 3 months in advance.

John offered to go hunting for furniture as soon as they arrived and she agreed, watching him uncertainly – which she did almost all the time since his sudden confesion in the church.

"Just be carefull.", she said, smiling weakly. "Don't spend too much. And take Der..."

"I'll take Cam.", he interrupted, looking at the cyborg standing near the window once again, who looked back at him, kinda questioningly.

_Cam?_, crossed Sarah's mind with irritation. _When did he start shortening her name?_

For a while, the woman didn't answer, furrowing her brows and looking at her son, then the terminator, and then back at her son once again. After recent developments she still didn't trust the machine, but she knew she'll have to entrust John's safety to her, sooner or later, anyway. The bigger problem was trusting John himself. Cameron had an influence over her boy, an influence that seemed far to big to stay healthy, which he proved without a doubt no more then two days ago. Sarah still remembered the sight of the weapon, held by him and pointed at her. She would've prefered to keep them away from each other for a time, and hoped that perhaps he'd be afraid of her and kept his distance. Clearly, that didn't seem to be the case.

"Alright.", she agreed finally, knowing that a refusal would only make matters worse. "Take Tin-Miss. She's standing whole day by the window looking like a lost puppy anyway."

She saw Derek scowling at the edge of her vision, and would've bet one of their diamonds without hesitation that the soldier's thoughts mirrored her own quite well.

"A lost puppy?", Cameron asked intrigued, tilting her head.

"Just a figure of speech.", the boy answered her, walking towards the door. "You coming?"

She moved, before reaching the door, however, she managed to ask again.

"But why do i look like a lost puppy?"

John burst out laughting and Sarah just shook her head tiredly. Derek didn't react in any way, his gaze still on John and his cyborg, a heavy look that the youngster felt on his back as he closed the door behind them.

* * *

They drove the car, John behind the wheel, she in the passenger's seat. Her big brown eyes followed surroundings with attention and the air flowing inside through the half-open window made her hair dance chaoticaly. From time to time she methodically moved loose strands behind her ear. She didn't close the window, however, which somehow seemed intriguing to the boy.

"Why don't you close the window, if the wind disturbs you?", he asked, finally, most of his attention still on the road.

She looked at him with one of those mysterious, auburn looks of hers.

"It doesn't disturb me.", she replied. "I like wind."

"Like... meaning... like?", he asked, unsure.

Cameron shrugged her shoulders.

"Like means to have positive feelings towards someone or something. I don't have feelings, so i can't like. I can't, however, find a better word to describe the satisfactory sensation of the air touching my..."

"You like it.", he cut her short, earning himself yet another look of those brown pools.

"I like it?", she asked, uncertainly.

"You do."

She nodded her head, a slight shadow of a smile creeping on her lips.

"I like it."

They drove in silence for a while, the young man revelling in a sudden burst of good mood. He had to admit to himself he was kinda afraid of this trip, he was afraid of the first moment alone with her, afraid of the memories and fear that still lurked inside of him, just behind the boundary of consciousness. That's why he wanted to go with her, to check his own reactions. Now, however, even though he wasn't really sure why, his fears were slowly fading into nothingness, some warm, nice feeling taking their place.

_She's still Cam..._, he thought, relieved. _Still my Cam..._

Somewhere, behind that boundary of a conscious mind, a small part of himself asked why exactly does he call a murderous cyborg "his", but he pushed it away, irritated. He wasn't in a mood to deal with unimportant details right now.

"John?", asked the object of his thoughts after a while.

"Yea?"

"Why aren't you afraid of me?"

He felt his blood stop in his veins for a moment, his heart losing a few beats. _Is she reading my mind, or something?_, came through his thoughts. In all fairness, though, it was a good, logical question. Cameron wasn't an idiot, to the contrary, she was quite a genius in her own way and she udnerstood quite a lot about people now. It really shouldn't come as a surprise that she would draw some conclusions from everything that happened between them recently.

"Should i be?", he asked, finally, glancing at her.

She was staring at him, unblinking, in that machine way of hers.

"Fear would be a natural reaction after what i have done to you."

His imagination showed him images of cyborgs throwing cars and screaming love confessions for a moment and his hands gripped the wheel tightier, without his consent, which he thought probably didn't escape her attention, focused completely on him right now.

"It wasn't you.", he answered finally.

"No. Not completely. But it wasn't completely someone else, either."

He nodded his head, keeping eyes firmly on the road.

"You promised you won't kill me."

"Yes. I promised."

"It's enough for me, then.", he said simply. "I've got no reason to be afraid of you."

_I don't want to be afraid of you..._

A moment of silence.

"And if i go bad again?", she asked once more.

He shivered slightly.

"I'll worry about it then."

For a while, the only sounds were the whisper of wind, noises of traffic and a slight murmur of the engine. Cameron shifted herself in her seat.

"Don't do it.", she finally said, quietly. "If it happens again, don't take risks to fix me."

He felt her eyes on him, once more, piercing him for several seconds, before she finally turned away, looking behind the window. He wanted to say something, but his throat gave up on him treacherously and the only thing he could manage was:

"Cam..."

"What you did was very unwise, John.", she interrupted him. "There are people in the future who think we are to close to each other. Acts like that only reinforce their fears. It is dangerous. And illogical."

The young man allowed his mind to analyze her words for a time, keeping his attention on driving the car.

_Too close..._, treacherous, teenage part of his mind noticed in silence. _What does that mean, exactly...?_

"I can understand dangerous.", he replied, ingoring his hormones with a hint of irritation. "But why illogical? How can i save milions of people, if i can't manage to save one person close to me?"

_How close...?_, unwanted remark emerged again, pushed back into the depths of his subconscioussnes moments later.

She looked at him, auburn pools holding his own eyes.

"I'm just a machine, John.", she answered. "An object. And risking your life for objects is illogical."

He felt a cold shiver running down his spine. His hands clenched the wheel with way too much strength when an irrational anger filled his heart. _An object?_ , he growled inside. _Does she see herself as some kind of a fucking toaster? _But then, he scolded himself in his mind, directing all the anger inwards. _And what is she supposed to see herself as, if noone treats her differently?_ The decision was made in a flash, his hand activating the turn signal with a quick move and he drove to the side and stopped the car.

"John?", she asked in confusion.

He turned to her and reached with his hand, touching her face suddenly. He was met with something that – he could swear – could be named a surprise. He felt the softness of her hair with an extreme clarity, admired the smoothness of her skin.

"Yes, you're a machine.", he finally said, letting his hand stroke her cheek gently. "But you're not an object, Cam."

"But John..."

"You're my only friend.", he interrupted her, and suddenly, it all became clear in his mind. He understood, at last, why he didn't fear her, why, despite her wanting to kill him not so long ago, he couldn't force himself to hate her. To hate her was to be alone, and John feared that much more then any frenzied machine. "Aside from Derek and my mother, you're all i have."

"But..."

"You're not an object.", he cut her off, irritated. "You understand? You're not. Repeat after me."

She tilted her head slightly, unconsciously to herself, but very consciously to the man nestling her face more into his palm.

"I'm not an object...?", she said finally, uncertainly with a clear question mark at the end.

"You're not."

Consternation crossed her features.

"What am i then? And why not an object?"

_And what now, smartass? Philosophy's not your strong point..._

A moment later, however, he suddenly smiled broadly. The answer was so simple, after all.

"Not what, sweetie.", he answered, still grinning and still stroking her face. "Who. You're a person. Cameron Phillips. You have a name. Objects don't have those."

_Sweetie...?_, irritating voice of his subconscioussnes asked again.

Realizing abruptly, along with that thought, what his hand was doing, he took it away, not without regret. For her part, Cameron seemed to think on his words for a moment.

"I see some sense in this.", she answered finally, looking at him and nodding her head. "Thank you for explaining."

"You're welcome.", John replied. "And from now on, if anyone objectifies you, tell them you have the right to knock out their teeth for that.

"Alright, John.", she smiled slightly. "I will."

"Great.", he returned the smile, starting the car once more. "Let's get going, we're almost there."

* * *

They came back much later then he'd anticipated. As if that wasn't enough, John opened the door for her – _it_ – motioning to come in. Sitting at the kitchen table – the only piece of furniture in the house right now – Derek looked at them scowling. He could feel something was amiss. Just two days ago the machine tried to crush his head but the boy acted like nothing happened. Before they left there was still at least a certain uneasiness about him, now even that was gone. The soldier cursed under his breath.

"The furniture will be here in the afternoon." the boy said under his watchful gaze. "I'm not sure if you'll like the color, though."

"No problems with the toaster? She didn't try to rip your head off?", he asked sarcastically in reply, pointing his head at the cyborg.

John's face darkened slightly, but he didn't answer. Cameron, on the other hand, tilted her head in that irritating manner of hers and stared at him intensively. So intensively, in fact, that he felt his hands sweat.

"I didn't try.", she replied coming towards him and holding his eyes with those brown pools. "And do not objectify me. I have the right to knock your teeth out for that."

And then, she walked upstairs, auburn hair waving with each step, leaving behind a blinking Derek and John, grinning like a fool as he followed her with his eyes.

"What... the fuck... was that?", the soldier managed finally.

"Just the truth, Reese.", Connor answered, the idiotic grin never leaving his face. "Just honest truth."

* * *

Afterwrod:

_Alright, that would be it for the first chapter. It starts kinda slow, hinting at some things, but i suppose that's how beginnings often are._

_ Personally, i've always found Sarkissians death to be a lot less accented in the series then it should have been. Sure, there were several episodes that dealt with it, but still, i think even Sarah's first victim and her anguish over it got more screentime._

_ And i belive something like that should shake a person heavily, esspecially if he's just an 16 year old boy, even with such a difficult past. All the more, if you consider rest of the things that happened to him that day._

_ I'm sorry for repeating some of the scenes from the series. It just felt like a perfect starting point._

_ Review away! Feedback is, as always, very welcomed._


	2. Chapter 2

Foreword:

_This chapter took much longer then the first, mostly for reasons not linked to the writing itself. Hopefully though, it'll be a fun read. Following chapters should be coming much faster, i expect to finish one every week or so._

_ Thanks for all the nice reviews._

_ uncommoner – lol, never would've seen my writing as feminist, but i like strong women too, so perhaps it is, at that :)_

_ XxDeathStarxX – i've actually considered it. Knocking the teeth out, i mean :P. It kinda seemed to strong and too serious for a beginning, though. _

_ lovesummertime – yep, Riley will be here. Quite soon, too. I've already figured out a way to get her into the middle of things despite John not going to school anymore (which was a slight problem at first). "Sweetie" was an effect of translation, wasn't meant as a reference to Jesse. I wanted it to sound kinda fatherly, as if he was explaining things to a child (which he kinda was, in a sense), and sweetie's main competitor - baby, sounded slightly more 'romantic' in my ears. Might just be my English, though.  
_

_ And to all the rest: One big thanks! I hope You'll like what i've planned next._

_ Aquma, 16.07.2010_

_

* * *

_

*** Chapter II ***

_~ 16 November, 2007 ~_

_~ Connor Household, Los Angeles, California ~_

John watched his mother pacing back and forth in the room. Her face was red, brows furrowed and her hair danced to the rhythm of energetic steps. Sarah was angry, the boy wasn't sure why exactly, though. Her reaction seemed to be completely out of proportion to the most obvious of reasons.

"So? Can anyone explain this to me?", the woman asked once more with a wild sparkle in her eye, pointing to the large sofa in the middle of the room.

Her gaze turned first to her son, and then to the machine with brown eyes that followed her now with a slight interest.

"Anyone?", Sarah repeated.

"Mom, i told you already.", her son replied, shrugging and looking at her. "I don't get what the problem is, anyway."

"What is the problem? What is the damn problem? Why the fuck does my living room look like... like a...", she stumbled, looking for the right words.

"...a whorehouse.", Derek offered helpfully, standing nearby.

Her eyes flashed to him instantly, and they had such a look in them, that the man raised his arms up in defeat at once, which somehow seemed funny to the youngster. _Even a veteran of the __future greatest war in mankind's history, has things he fears..._, he thought with smirk.

But then, his smile faded and the boy shook his head slightly, looking back at his mother.

_It's me she's mad at, not him..._

"As i've explained already...", he answered her once more. "Cam chose them."

The woman's eyes seemed to flare with anger even more strongly, when she walked to him and threw out of herself with a fury:

"Exactly! You've explained! But you've somehow failed to mention why she was the one choosing!", and then, turning to the machine she added, waving her hand around to illustrate. "And why the fuck did you choose this, of all things? Do they have any special defense value? Bulletproof lining? Secret stashes for weapons and false papers? Anti-skynet defense systems?"

Cameron watched her in silence for a long while, tilting her head slightly as if she was thinking about the question herself. Sarah stood in front of her patiently, tapping one foot nervously.

"Say something already!", she broke, finally, when the answer didn't come for a solid 15 seconds.

"I like this color. It reminds me of my jacket.", the cyborg answered and John noticed his mother's shoulders slump slightly. And then, he saw the danger of the conversation heading further this way...

"How so?", Sarah asked with unnatural calm.

_Oh no..._

"It's matching the jacket's color in 87 percent. I like it."

The woman shook her head.

"You can't like, you're just a mach...", she started and at exactly that moment John felt his heart loosing a few beats, when his fears started to turn into reality.

_Oh no, no, no..._

"Do not objectify me, i have the rig...", Cameron interrupted her, but her sentence was suddenly cut in the middle, when John moved like the wind to her side, and delicately but firmly covered her mouth with his hand. Big, auburn eyes moved slowly and looked at his face questioningly.

The young man shook his head slightly, at the edge of his vision noticing his mother reddening even more in reaction to the situation, looking from one of them to the other.

_Not good..._, managed to cross his mind.

And the Sarah exploded.

"Damn!", she growled at him, piercing with murderous stare. "You've spent more than two times what you were supposed to! You've bought us purple furniture, purple carpets, purple curtains and satin bedding! And all of that, because you decided that a machine likes them?

"She lives here too, mom. She's got the right to have her own preferences.", he answered firmly.

The woman held her head and closed her eyes.

"Got... the... right... damn you! And that's why you had to let her choose _everything_?"

"It just happened.", he shrugged. "And besides, she didn't get to decide anything last time, so it's kinda even."

"Happened... even...", Sarah sighed, repeating after him absently and staring at his face with eyes full of incomprehension. Then, once more moving her gaze from him to her and back, she suddenly added with a much quieter, suspicious voice and a new sparkle in her eyes. "Why are you covering her damn mouth?"

His hand moved from its place in reaction, which Cameron quickly took advantage of:

"John probably doesn't want me to tell you tha..."

The hand returned, turning rest of the words into a faint mumble.

"...that we also bought purple tiles for the bathroom.", he finished, feeling the cyborg's stare on his face once more.

Sarah's eyes first widdened slightly, then narrowed dangerously.

_Eh... she knows me way too well for that. One thing left to do..._

"We have to go.", he stated suddenly when his mother's mouth started to open again, grabbing Cameron by the hand and moving up the stairs with firm steps. "We've got a lot to unpack.", he added over his shoulder.

"Indeed...", he heard behind him and almost felt something drill holes in his back.

_Tactical retreat..._

_

* * *

_

"Why didn't you let me speak?", she asked just after the doors closed behind them.

He took both of them into the first room available, which just happened to be the small place chosen by Cameron. The walls were painted white; on one side stood the furniture – a big wardrobe and a solid desk with many drawers; on the other side, for appearance's sake was a matching, comfortable bed, with two cardboard boxes on top of it now.

The young man turned his eyes from his environment and looked at his companion, thinking about a reasonable answer.

"It wasn't a good idea, Cam. My mother was angry enough as it was. If you told her what i suppose you were going to...", he trailed off, leaving the rest for her to fill out.

"But you've told me yourself..."

"I know, Cam. I know what i've told you.", he stopped her with a sigh. "But sometimes, it's better to go with small steps. You can't always do everything directly and telling someone you can break her teeth is not always the best course of action. And it's not like you don't know that. You were created for infiltration, for subtlety."

She tilted her head, considering his words.

"It's true, John. Thank you for explaining.", she nodded finally, but then also noticed reasonably. "You didn't stop me with Derek."

"Derek treats you way worse them my mother. He deserved that."

"Yes, he treats me way worse.", she replied moving towards the bed. "But he also has a lot more reasons for it."

Reaching her target, she opened the first box and took several folded T-shirts out of it. Then, she walked towards the wardrobe but stopped, considering the protective covering, only to tore it off with one arm a moment later, slide the door open and place her clothes on one of the lower shelves.

"Probably so, but it's still no excuse for what he's doing. He's going over the edge.", he said, watching her and then added, "What are you doing?"

She looked at him over her shoulder.

"We've got a lot to unpack.", she repeated his earlier words, bending and reaching to her box once more.

And when she straightened back up, holding a pair of black, lace panties, the boy suddenly felt his face turning beet red. _Oh, damn her..._ His imagination instantly started going wild, showing him many very pleasurable, but also not exactly wanted images and he swallowed hard, turning his face away.

_Be calm, man, calm... cold water, a lot of blue, ice-cold water..._

"John? Is everything alright?"

She walked towards him, with that damn underwear still in one hand.

_Cold depths of a sea..._

He felt her hand on his neck.

_Cold, blue water, skimpy bathing suit, shining droplets of water running down her... wait!_

"Your heart beat is unnaturally fast.", she recited the results of her scan in an analytic voice. "Body's temperature is raising, blood flow is directed towards your face and..."

He suddenly moved away, shaking off her hand and taking a deep breath.

"I'm alright."

"But..."

"I'm alright, damn it!"

She tilted her head, watching him closely. A moment later her eyes moved slowly towards the underwear in her hand, only to go back to his face after that.

"Oh." , she said finally. "I understand."

"No, you don't."

"I do. You feel..."

"Drop it, Cam.", he sighed, shaking his head. "Drop it, please."

Her head tilted to the other side, brown eyes still focused on his reddened face.

"Alright, John.", she agreed at last.

"Great. Leave it for now.", he pointed to the boxes with a vague gesture. "There's something i would like to talk to you about."

His cyborg threw her panties on the bed in a negligent move, which once more summoned a wave of different images, filling his imagination. _Damn it! What's happening with me?_, he thought irritatingly and repelled them with his will. As he watched Cameron walking towards him, he reminded himself, with a little bit of difficulty, of what he was going to tell her.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"I want to ask something of you."

"You can ask anything of me, John.", she spoke softly, her big eyes on his face.

He coughed slightly, fighting off another rebellion of his unruly imagination.

"I know", he finally answered with a small smile. "Listen..."

* * *

At the same time, sitting on the god forsaken sofa, Sarah took a long, tired sip from her bottle of cold beer and and leaned back more into the softness, straightening her legs.

_At least it's comfortable..._, crossed her mind.

Truth be told, the woman knew that the real reason behind her anger and a slight overreaction had little to do with the furniture itself. She didn't fancy purple, but it also didn't hurt her eyes. No... it was about something more, which their little furniture shopping was only a symptom of.

"I don't know what's happening with him...", she said softly, holding a cold bottle against her forehead. "I don't understand my own child."

"You know very well.", Derek answered, leaning against a wall and crossing his arms on his chest.

She scowled at him.

"Oh, c'mon.", he said, irritated. "Even i can see what's happening, and you know him a lot better."

She shook her head with determination.

"No. It's not possible. He's too wise for that, and besides, just two days ago she tried to kill him."

"He's a teenager.", Reese snickered in reply. "And besides, just two days ago she told him she loved him."

"He knows it was a lie, a trick..."

"Does he? Because i remember quite well where his gun was pointed."

She gave no answer to that, letting an awkward silence fall between them, interrupted only by the ticking of a wall clock.

"I'll talk with him.", she sighed.

The soldier nodded his head slightly.

"Better you than me."

He walked towards the kitchen table and rested his weight on it heavily, looking absently behind the window, where darkness reigned for a while now, brightened only by the shine of moonlight and an occasional light of a passing car.

"We need to stop it, Sarah.", he spoke under his breath. "Now. Before it's too late."

The woman didn't answer. Reese got at least one thing right – she knew her son a lot better. Thanks to that, however, she knew that if their concerns proved true, they may have a very tough nut to crack in front of them. One they might even break their teeth on.

_No... he couldn't..._ , a thought crossed her mind and she swallowed another big gulp of cold beer to put it out of her head for just a little while.

* * *

"I don't know where they came from. They just showed up suddenly, one day. A mother and a pair of teenage children – boy and girl."

Goergie Reynolds nodded his head slightly, taking a sip from the glass of water that was offered to him. They sat in the living room, Georgie on the sofa, his host – a lean man with grey hair, in his armchair. His name was Jim Fleur and he was an old war veteran, living in the neighborhood of the burnt house.

Georgie spent the last two days looking around the vicinity and asking everyone nearby about the strange family that lived there, in that ruined household. He didn't get much, almost no one knew them. They were evidently people who valued their privacy. A lot. Every detail counted, though.

"There was something strange about them, you know?", the old man spoke once more. "The way the carried themselves, looked around...", he shook his head and raised the mutilated stump of his left hand. "We moved like that. There. In the Green Hell."

"Vietnam?", Reynolds asked, furrowing his brows. "They moved like soldiers?"

The man nodded his head slightly, blue-gray eyes solemn and hard.

"Kind of.", he answered. "Especially the girl. Her eyes never stopped scanning her surroundings. And not only that... she just was... i don't know. She was strange."

"Strange? How?"

"Hard to explain.", Fleur shrugged. "There was something unnatural about her. On the outside, there was nothing wrong, but her eyes...", he hanged his voice for a moment, looking for the right words. "Eyes like that i know too, you know? Eyes that had a soul taken out of them."

Reynolds nodded his head and took a sip of water once more. Then he raised heavily from his place.

"Thank you, sir. You've helped me a lot."

"It's not a problem. I would have just one advice for you, if you don't mind my openness."

"Yes?"

"Drop the case. Don't look for those people further.", the man said, looking into Georgie's eyes. "Doesn't matter how much you've been paid. Something tells me that, if you finally find them, it won't be worth it. People don't become like that... without a reason, Mr. Reynolds."

They looked at each other for a while, in silence.

"Thank you for the advice, Mr. Fleur.", Reynolds broke it finally and walked to the door, planning his next step on the way.

* * *

_The flames dancing behind her back brightened her lithe frame. Ruffled hair danced in smoke too, and a beautiful, bloodied face was turned right in his direction, a pair of eyes, glowing __with a scarlet light piercing into his soul._

_ "I love you, John...", he heard her words when she raised her delicate hand, clad in a fingerless glove, and pointed a gun at him._

_ He wanted to move, to say something, to scream... but for some reason he could do neither of those things. He could only watch, as her finger gently squeezed the trigger._

_ Then, the roar of a gunshot filled everything, and the boy let out a wordless shriek._

"Aaaaahhh!", resounded loudly in the room, when John released himself from the clutches of his nightmare with a sudden force. He rose slightly, sitting in his bedsheets and holding his head in his hands.

"Nightmare?", he heard next to him, a voice full of concern, and felt someone touch his shoulder.

His eyes moved and met the face of his mother, sitting at the edge of his bed. He sighed slightly.

"How many times do i have to tell you not to do it.", he complained in a tired voice.

"I'm sorry.", she answered with a smile, but it quickly vanished when she followed with a question. "Do you have them often?"

"What?", he pretended not to understand.

"Nightmares, John. Do you have them often?"

A moment of silence.

"Sometimes."

"About her?"

"Why would you think they're about her?"

"Her name... you whispered it, thrashing in your sleep."

_You could've woke me up, if you were here for that long..._, he thought bitterly.

For a moment he considered lying to her, but then, he finally sighed heavily and gave up. _She knows me far too well to fall for that..._

"Some of them.", he admitted truthfully.

His mother was silent once more, he felt her gaze on him, however. Unconsciously, he suspected where this conversation will go from here, he didn't speak up though, still hoping she would let him off the hook.

"Is she... alright?", she asked, finally.

_No luck, i guess..._

"I don't know, mom. I think so. I've noticed no problems, at least."

"No _further_ problems, you mean.", she corrected him.

He looked at her and shook his head, drawing the sheets higher and shaking her hand off his shoulder in the process.

"Is there a reason for you bombarding me with obviousness so early in the morning?", he said with irritation.

"John..."

"If you have something to tell me, just do it."

The woman sighed, moving a hand through her hair and looking at him once more.

"Don't you think it would be safer if you... pushed her away a little?"

_Everyone knows what's best for me..._

He didn't answer, his hand clenched the bed sheet angrily, however, which he thought probably didn't escape her notice.

"Something changed between you two, since that moment.", Sarah started once more, cautiously. "You're acting like... you're acting unreasonably. As if you don't remember who and what she is. Instead of being more cautious around her, it's the opposite. You seem to trust her even more. Instead of keeping your distance, you're growing even closer to her."

The young man raised his eyes slowly, until he finally crossed stares with his mother.

"And what if i am?", he said coldly.

"And what if you are?", the woman repeated after him, a hint of anger in her voice. "John, she could still be dangerous. I don't want her to hurt you.", and then, turning her face away she added quietly. "And even if she doesn't... i don't want you to hurt yourself."

"I've no intention of hurting myself, mom."

The woman shook her head, sad eyes on his face once more.

"It's a machine, John. She can't feel, she can't like...", she sighed heavily, moving a hand over her face. "She can't love..."

He felt a shiver with those last words, when memories struck again with force. He flinched and turned his face away. John knew he was supposed to tell her he knows that, ascertain her, his throat gave up on him treacherously, however.

"You can't let yourself grow attached to her.", his mother continued. "And you can't ever forget, that under that cute face, lies metal. I know it's hard sometimes but... just try to remember the way you see her in your dreams, too. The fear you feel then."

_Ah, so that's why you didn't wake me up..._, he noted, and then with a mixture of anger, mirth and embarrassment, this thought evolved in his head. _And what about other things i feel when i dream of her, mom? What about other roles she fills in them? Should i remember about those too?_

None of this left his lips, of course. He knew that getting all his entangled feelings for Cameron out in the open would be a mistake. It would scare his mother, giving fuel to the fire and arguments for her point of view, and he didn't really need that. And besides, he wouldn't really feel comfortable, talking with her about things he didn't understand himself. So he kept his silence for a while longer, observed by her watchful eyes, gathering strength and picking the right words.

When he finally spoke, his voice was strong and completely calm.

"You know, at times i think that both you and Derek take me for a complete idiot.", left his lips, and when the woman opened her own to protest, he raised a hand to stop her. "No, let me finish."

She nodded, slowly, looking at him uncertainly.

"Over and over, you're telling me 'John, it's a machine', 'John, she can't feel', 'John, she could be dangerous', as if i was blind, deaf and couldn't draw my own conclusions. But i see, hear and understand more than you think."

"And what conclusions did you draw?"

"I know very well that Cameron is a machine, mom, and i know she could be dangerous. I've never doubted it for a second. I just don't care. Wanna know why?", the woman scowled and started opening her mouth again, but he didn't let her, answering his own question instead. "Because i know she's special. Different than others."

Her hair danced when she shook her head.

"John..."

"Tell me you've never had such an impression.", he cut her off again. "Look into my eyes, and tell me that you've never wondered, looking at her, at what she does. That you've never asked yourself 'Why?'. That you've never considered that there might be something more then cold, analytic logic and a programmed mission driving her."

Something crossed her features, and the young man knew he hit a soft spot.

"But it's...", she started but trailed off, which he took advantage of, instantly.

"You're going to tell me that it's all part of the programming? To blend in better? To understand us and be a better hunter? If so, then allow me to tell you that you're completely wrong."

She looked at him incredulously.

"What do you mean? How can you know that?"

"When i first met her, mom, she was so human that she could've fooled anyone.", he answered. "There wasn't even a slightest chance i could've suspected what she was, not even in the wildest, most insane dreams would such an idea come into my head. She was pretending to be one of us, and she was absolutely authentic. Absolutely, mom.", he stressed. "There really is nothing more she needs to learn about this."

She blinked.

"Then why does she now..."

"After we learned who she is, she simply stopped pretending.", he shrugged, answering an unfinished question once more. "What you see every day is not a complicated infiltration program. It's just her, mom. The real Cameron. She's got enough knowledge and skill to fool anyone, but she's got no reason to. But _pretending_ is something very different than _understanding_, mom. And she wants to understand. That's why she asks all those questions."

A moment of silence fell on them. This time it was Sarah who tried to make something out of her son's words.

"Are you suggesting...", she finally asked uncertainly. "...that she's learning to _be _a human? John, it's really..."

He shook his head in denial.

"No, mom. Not exactly. She'll never be a human and, truth be told, i don't think she wants to. Why would she? In many things she's better than us.", he answered, ignoring the scowl that those words brought on her face, with premeditation, "I'm suggesting she's becoming more and more of herself. She's evolving, learning to understand the world in her own way, piece by piece."

His mother's gaze pierced him with a force.

"But why?", she replied. "Why would she do that? For what reason?"

The green of his eyes met her stare equally.

"And why do we?", he asked simply. "Why do we seek? Why do we try to understand the world around us, the sense, the reason for our life? Why do we need religion, or morality, why do we need it all?"

"But that would mean...", she shook her head once more. "...that's she's free, John. That's she's making her own choices."

He nodded slowly, still looking into his mother's eyes.

"In a way, she is.", he replied. "Perhaps not completely, but to a certain degree. Free to learn and become more then she is. More then Skynet ever intended for her."

_Perhaps even free to do as she pleases, more than any of us suspect..._, he thought, remembering how she lied to all of them about Vick's chip.

Sarah clearly didn't have an answer for that, for a longer while she just sat there, looking at him so intently, that the boy almost felt as if she wanted to pierce him through.

"Even if it's true...", she answered at last. "Even if you're right, John, it still doesn't solve the problem of her being a danger to you. She proved that lately in a very clear way.", she moved her hand and touched his injured cheek. "You're not safe around her."

The boy smiled lightly and took her hand.

"No one is ever safe.", he replied and saw her face redden, when he struck her argument with her own words. "Me least of all."

"It's true, but..."

"All my life, i've been lonely, mom.", he cut her off again and noticed her eyes going wide, a mixture of pain and amazement swirling inside them. "For many different reasons, i'm not safe around anyone. Never been, never will be."

"The difference, John...", she answered him. "...is that if she decides to hurt you, there's only so little you can do to stop her."

"True.", he agreed. "But then, in return, she's that much better at stopping dangers from other sources. And you've gotta agree, those are much more frequent."

Something fought inside her, John could see it in the scowl on her face.

"Thanks to her, i finally have someone, besides you, who i can talk to. I can't see any crime in that.", he drew the last nail into the coffin. "She's not a bystander who's life i have to protect, and as long as she's fine, she's not a murderer i need to fear. She's strong, tough, intelligent and loyal. She's a friend i really need.", he hung his voice for a moment, and then added. "Sometimes i wonder if that's the reason she's the one my future self sent back, instead of any other."

His mother blinked a few times, sitting in silence. Finally, a long sigh escaped her and she shook her head.

"Just... don't do anything stupid, John.", she said, getting up from the bed. "I trust you."

"I know, mom.", he answered. "Don't worry."

The woman walked towards the door and smiled at him over her shoulder.

"I need to worry. I'm a mother. It's my job and my privilege.", and then, after opening the doors she added. "Get up from this bed already, breakfast will be done in half an hour."

* * *

After getting out of his room, she rested her back against the door for a moment, closing her eyes and trying to collect herself.

This talk has gone in a completely different way than she imagined. She expected anger, denial and a fight, but instead, she was met with a well-thought, and intelligently presented argumentation. She was going to persuade him to move away from Cameron, and she not only failed miserably, but also allowed him to point out and empower each and every one of her doubts. The result was a question mark, one that, as much as she wanted, she couldn't really completely ignore. _And what if he's the one who's right?_, she asked herself. _If she really is something more?_

That thought sent a shiver down her spine and suddenly, words, spoken in a girlish voice flashed in her memory.

_Do you believe in the resurrection?_

Why did a machine ask a question like that? Is it possible she felt... guilty? That she wanted to erase her sins? Get a fresh start? Was it really possible for her to be capable of something like that? And if so...

_If so, then what right do we have to treat her like an object? Like a tool?_

The woman shivered once more and shook her head with resignation. She didn't know true from false anymore, but one thing she was sure of. Whether it was good, or bad, Cameron meant a lot to her son and he wasn't as blind or heedless as Sarah thought him to be just an hour ago. He was acting quite calm and reasonable when they talked, and in truth, she was kinda proud of him. Her son had matured in the last few days. If he needed his cyborg companion, then perhaps it was time to trust his choices?

She was only worried that her son, mature or not, but still a teenager, in the companionship of a cute and utterly devoted to him girl, won't be able to draw the line between friendship and... other things.

She hoped he understood, that it's a line he could never cross.

* * *

Walking down the stairs, John was welcomed with a sight that could be called a typical morning in the Connor household.

Derek probably didn't spend the night, since there was no trace of him whatsoever. Cameron sat at the table, her eyes watching Sarah's back with a slight interest, as the woman cursed and burned pancakes, that were supposed to be their breakfast, to a rather dark shade of... well... coal.

"Mmmm...", he murmured funnily. "Smells great."

Both of them turned their attention to him.

"Good, because we've got nothing else.", Sarah answered him with a smile, just a little bit too sweet, and the boy winced. "We'll have to go shopping later.", she added.

"Good morning, John.", Cameron said for her part, looking at him in that typical, intense way of hers.

"Good morning, Cam.", he replied, sitting next to her at the table. "How was the night?"

"I detected no immediate threats.", she answered, making him roll his eyes. "But the neighbours' dog barked loudly for almost the whole night."

"Really? I've heard nothing."

"Really. If this happens again tonight, i'll have to check it."

He looked at her, blinking a few times.

"Check what?"

"The dog. There could be a terminator near that house."

_Or, god forbid, a cat..._ , the youngster thought, shaking his head. "Just be careful and don't make a fuss."

"I won't, John.", she replied, with something akin to a smile on her lips, and the boy saw his mother watching them, at the edge of his vision. He took it for a good sign, that she didn't decide to comment on their conversation in any sarcastic way. It also seemed that the daggers her eyes were constantly throwing towards Cam for the last few days, disappeared somewhere. And then, his mother really surprised him, placing two trays of burnt pancakes in front of them. Two. One in front of each.

_She's really trying..._

"Thanks, mom.", he said with a smile and knew that she knows him well enough to read between the lines, and know that it wasn't just pancakes he was thankful for. She nodded her head once.

The cyborg also seemed to notice the change, looking in turns at Sarah and the tray with a tilted head and a strange expression on her face.

"Thank you.", she said finally. "But i don't require food."

The woman shrugged.

"Then give yours to John.", she answered with a smile and Cameron took her tray and dumped the blackened contents on his own. "He's young, he needs to eat well.", Sarah added.

"This amount of coal could be unhealthy.", the boy smirked in reply.

Before his mother got a chance for a sharp counter, the room was suddenly filled with a sound of ringing phone. John reached to his trousers' pocket, with a slight surprise, and took the loud device out.

_There aren't many people that could be calling me..._ , he though and looked at the small screen, and when he saw the name displayed, his surprise became even deeper. He answered it.

"Hey.", the boy started uncertainly, under Sarah's watchful gaze.

"17th november? Johny? That's a code, right?", he heard Charlie Dixon's nervous voice on the other side.

* * *

The sunlight was entering through the large shutters, decorated with heavy hangings. It caressed the profile of a beautiful woman's face, shining on the thick gold hair. An observer, standing behind that window and looking inside, would've seen an almost angelic view: an ideal line of the neck, framed with honey locks, insightful, emerald green eye, delicate lips and a skin that seemed almost too pale and delicate to be real.

All the better that there wasn't anyone there, because when the woman turned her head, ruining the profile, what was heaven before, suddenly exploded with hellish flames. Those same sunrays fell on a massacred cheek, a ruin of an unseeing eye and a half torn-off scalp, hidden on the other half of her face, presenting and stressing a truly horrible image of a beauty lost once and for all.

Richly decorated office suddenly resounded with the powerful sounds of Bethoven's fifth symphony and a moment later a slender, right hand touched one of the buttons on the armrest of the modern wheelchair, answering the call on a built-in speakerphone.

"Good day ma'am. George Reynolds speaking here.", sounded in the room with a slight electrical crackle.

"Greetings, Mr. Reynolds.", a velvet voice replied. "I assume you have something for me, since you decided to trouble me with a phone call."

"Yes. Yes ma'am. I think i do have something."

"I'm listening."

"I've managed to get my hands on the security records of several local shops and i've sho..."

"Short version, Mr. Reynolds. I'm not interested in the details of your work. What did you find?

"Ekhm...", the man on the other side coughed. "It's nothing certain yet, ma'am, but i think i have a name for you."

"Still listening, Mr. Reynolds."

"Does the name... Sarah Connor ...ring any bells?"

**T.B.C.**

**

* * *

**

Afterword:

_Still kinda a slow chapter. A lot of character relations and development, a bit of humour and quite a sizable amount of Jamerony goodness. But it's, as they say, a silence before the storm. The next chapter will be different and rather action packed, which you can probably guess from some fragments of this one (one slightly changed scene from the show). There'll be some surprises, however. Not everything is gonna go as in the original._

_ As always, looking forward to reviews and comments._

_ Aquma, 17.07.2010_

_ P.S. I'm actually becoming better at translating stuff. This one took me just one day. Bodes well for the future :)._


	3. Chapter 3

Foreword:

_This time, a chapter that's a little bit different. I wasn't able to fit whole story arc into one chapter, after all, while keeping the 5-6k words target (don't want to write larger ones, especially when there are so many possible places it can be cut, without the story suffering) so it'll be continued in the next one. A lot of scene repeatings this time, which I don't like much (as You know already), but still, I can't help it in this case. At the very least I try to show them from a different perspective._

_ Thanks to all the second chapter reviewers, namely: TCandBTVSluver, Dave, Ramidaz, XxDeathStarxX, Klumsysmurf, RachelJones648, mordred, lee443, kaotic2, olischulu, m1919, and the Joker'sBrother._

_ Also, special thanks to uncommoner, both for his reviews, and for all the help with spelling and stuff he gave me._

_ Aquma, 25.07.2010_

_

* * *

_

*** Chapter III ***

_~ 17th November, 2007 ~_

_~ Connor Household, Los Angeles, California ~  
_

"John?", Charlie Dixon's voice repeated, coming from the small, unfolded phone, echoing throughout the kitchen.

"Y...yeah. Where are you?"

"We... uh... we're on our way out of town.", the man continued, tension and nervousness clear in his voice. "We... we're leaving."

John scratched his forehead, feeling a mix of confusion and sadness inside.

"Why?", he asked, his throat giving up on him slightly.

"John...", Charlie replied again and the boy could've sworn his voice broke a little. "Can you... can you hang on a minute, please...?"

A dozen or so seconds passed, during which John heard almost nothing from the other side. His thoughts ran at a gallop in this time, trying to make some sense of the situation, draw some conclusions. _Why is Charlie calling?_

"Okey... I'm... i'm back.", Dixon finally spoke again. "Just... uh... just listen, okey? I just... i need to say goodbye to your Mom. I didn't get a chance to say goodbye, and she... um... she wouldn't give me her phone number."

_Perhaps that's why? And that's why he's so tense?_

John looked at his Mother, standing near the stove, her eyes focused on him.

"...I was just hoping maybe you could... uh...", Charlie's voice continued from the phone. "... you know, just have her give me a call"

"Hang on.", John replied and extended the hand with the phone to Sarah. "It's for you, Mom."

Her brows furrowed slightly, a question clear on her face. Then she wiped her hands clean with a paper towel and walked to the table, taking the device held by her son.

"Halo?", she asked, putting it to her ear.

Sitting still at the table, John obviously couldn't hear the rest of the conversation, at least from Charlie's side. He could only watch his Mother. Whatever she heard, her face remained impassive, though despite that fact, the boy could notice something painful behind her dark eyes, still piercing him with a surprising intensity. He knew well enough, that his Mother still had feelings for Charlie. There was nothing strange in that, too – after all, even if it was 8 years for him, for her the time from their break up was still counted in months. There was something else in her eyes, however. Something... something strange. The youngster wasn't sure why, but this stare unnerved him, for some reason.

_She's mad at me, for giving him my number?_

No. It wasn't just that. He had a feeling there was something more.

"What do you want me to say, Charlie?", the woman spoke again, and after a while she added: "I mean, with John standing right here, what am I supposed to say?"

Those words made him feel slightly uncomfortable, the feeling quickly passed, however, under the constant pressure of that watchful, insistent gaze. _What's going on here...?_, he thought. _She's saying goodbye to a man she still has feelings for, but her eyes are on me all the time. As if she..._

And then, suddenly, an unnerving thought blossomed in his head, and along with it, an understanding, running down his spine in a cold shiver.

_Perhaps... oh God, i hope it's not that..._

"You shouldn't have called here, Charlie. You were right to leave.", Sarah spoke again. "I don't wanna know where you are, in case I need you. I'm not gonna need you. It's better for you if I can't find you, you understand?"

The boy turned his head, narrowing his eyes and looked at Cameron, sitting motionless at the table, her head tilted slightly, attention focused exclusively on his Mother.

"Yes, I am.", he heard from the direction of speaking woman again, and then, after a longer while he heard her add: "Stay safe, Charlie."

Sarah closed the phone and, taking one step closer, she slid it over the table to her son, with a clear anger.

"I told you not to give him your number.", she hissed, turning back and leaving the kitchen, dark hair bouncing to the rhythm of her angry steps.

Few seconds later, Cameron rose from her place too, before she could take even one step, however, John suddenly gripped her hand strongly. She turned her head in a slow, calm motion and looked at his hand, only to focus those brown pools on his face a moment later.

"John?", she asked uncertainly.

The youngster felt the cold shiver on his back return. He knew that what he was going to do was neither nice, nor exceptionally polite, but he had no choice. He had to make sure.

_I just have to..._

"I want to know what they talked about.", he said, feeling a lump in his throat, looking into her eyes. "Tell me, Cam."

She tilted her head slightly, as in a lack of understanding. A few loose, brown strands of hair caressed her cheek.

"I know you heard his voice in the speaker.", the youngster explained and then he repeated once more: "I want to know what they talked about."

"Why?"

The boy shook his head slightly.

"I don't know. I just have this ... feeling... that something isn't right."

He held his breath, eyes still on her, but Cameron remained silent. Neither her face, nor her eyes changed, not even a fraction. The only sounds in his ears were the quiet ticking of a clock and the loud thumping of his own heart. Long seconds passed this way, one after the other.

_She's silent... so there must be something in it, after all..._

"Please...", he said, a little bit pleadingly, gripping her hand even tightlier. "Charlie means a lot to me. If something happened to him, I need to know about it."

Cameron still kept her silence, unmoving like a statue.

"Cam... it's obvious to me, that something isn't right.", the boy sighed again, shaking his head. "Sometimes silence speaks more then words themselves. I just don't know _what_ it is. Do you really want me to dig on my own? And you know I will..."

She tilted her head to the other side, clearly considering his words.

"Charlie told your Mother that someone took his wife.", she answered finally and the boy's heart clenched in his chest. "He thinks it was a terminator."

John closed his eyes, letting go of her hand at last and taking his face into his hands. _Charlie..._

"It's possible.", he whispered, feeling his world whirl. "It's very possible."

A moment of silence.

"Yes. It's possible."

"It's my fault..." the youngster sighed weakly. "It's all my fault."

Cameron looked at him for a moment, quietly.

"No, John. It's not your fault. Skynet sent him here, not you.", she answered carefully.

He lifted up his eyes, meeting a pair of her own: big, brown and looking at him with attention.

"To get me.", he replied with slight anger in his voice. _What could she possibly know?_

"That's not your fault either.", she answered reasonably. "At least not yet."

He let his eyes drop, looking at the table. She was right, and he knew it. There wasn't any fault of his in the fact that Skynet was sending assassins after him. His only "fault" was years in the future, when he'll finally become the Resistance's leader and give the damned super-computer a real reason for those steps. And even then, it'll just be a weight he'll need to carry for the sake of saving his species.

Sadly, being conscious of that fact made little to lighten his conscience.

The boy rose slowly, moving his fingers through his hair. And when he turned his stare on his cybernetic friend once more, his eyes were hard, his face radiating with determination.

"We have to do something."

"We can't, John.", she shook her head. "If it's really true, then don't forget who's the real target. It's a trap to catch you."

_Not this time... _, he thought angrily.

"I know.", he replied aloud, both his face and his determined tone seemed to suggest, however, that it changes nothing. "Thankfully, a trap you're aware of, can work both ways."

"I can't let anything happen to you.", Cameron shook her head once more.

"Then don't. Help me."

She looked at him for a longer while. He could almost see the calculation going on in her head, and he wondered absently, what value does the option of knocking him out and tying with a tape for his own good have in this equation.

When she spoke again, however, there was no protest in her voice, no warning.

"What are you going to do?"

"Don't know yet.", he replied, a small smile slowly creeping on his lips. It was good to know, that whatever happens, he'll have her by his side. "Let's start with what he's going to do. What would you, in his place?"

* * *

It was a hellishly hot day. Merciless sun scorched them through the windshield, and it was so warm inside, that Sarah had an impression that they breathed only thanks to the wind, blowing into the speeding car, giving them a slight relief. Even with that, however, even with the merciful breeze, the air seemed so thick that the woman felt as if she was swimming in hot gel with each movement.

"It's stupid.", said Derek Reese for the third time, sitting in the passanger's seat.

Sarah shook her head, irritated.

"I swear, Reese, if you say it one more time, i'll knock your teeth out."

Derek turned his head, mumbling something about teeth breaking under his breath, with a tone that dangerously reminded Sarah of a childish mocking. Then he raised his hand to his face, wiping some of the sweat off in irritation. _What's his problem now?_, crossed her mind, but before she got a chance to dwell on it further, the soldier spoke again.

"What's the plan?"

"Find her, free her, run away. If she's alive, that is, which I doubt. If she's not, then we'll find the body, to give Charlie something to put into the coffin.", the woman sighed. "And hopefully, we'll blow up some metal while we're at it."

"Ambitious. _Insanely_ ambitious."

"Yeah, that's the way I am, Reese."

The man shook his head in an answer, he didn't reply to her words in any oher way, however. When she looked his way, his face was hard to read. Eyes glimmered slightly with reflected sunlight, hair was soaked in sweat, just as the T-shirt he was wearing and while there wasn't anything incredible about the image – just Derek – something in it lifted her spirit a bit. The soldier, while grumpy sometimes, was also loyal beyond measure, ready to throw his life away even for an unclear goal. Kinda like...

_Like Kyle..._ ,she sighed deep inside her soul. _In moments like this, I can see really clearly how alike both brothers really are..._

"It's a trap. You know that.", he said finally, getting her out of her thoughts, with eyes still watching the fast-moving landscape.

She gave a small nod.

"I know. I also know it's for John, not us."

The soldier sighed heavily, and turned to look at her again.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. Skynet doesn't like you much either."

For a longer while, she didn't answer. He was right, and so was she. Her son was definitely the main target, she was always seen as just a way, a tool to get to him. If that tool became useless, however, or if they had another way of finding him, her death would certainly serve the blasted AI goals well.

_It changes nothing, though..._, she thought tiredly.

"I can't leave him like that.", she whispered. "I just can't, Derek."

The man sighed, looking at her, no cocky, sarcastic remark came this time though. Perhaps something in her face made him forgo those.

"I get it.", he said simply. "I'll do what I can, to get us all out of this alive."

* * *

Sarah watched Charlie Dixon, pacing nervously in the scorching sun. Besides the small gas station behind them, there was only wasteland everywhere around. And the road, visible in the slightly waving, hot air. The same road that the monster she brought into their lives was probably driving on, with an innocent, completely oblivious woman in his clutches.

_I shoudln't have..._ ,she thought bitterly. _...i never should have allowed myself his company... my feelings..._

"Where would he take her?", asked the man, still moving, bringing her from the world of her thoughts, back to the painful reality.

"I don't know.", she answered truthfully.

"Then how will we find her?"

"I don't know.", she repeated once more, with a hint of angry resignation.

"Don't know?"

"No!"

"That thing will be watching us, right now. We need to go.", Derek noted reasonably.

"What we need to do, is find my wife!"

"Look...", Derek replied, piercing the other man with a hard look. "If she won't tell you the truth, I will."

Charlie looked at him without a word. The soldier's grave tone unnerved him visibly, his lips trembled, and he clearly had no idea what to do with his hands, finally settling on grabbing his belt nervously.

"That thing took your wife to get to John.", Reese started once more. "You think he gives a damn about her?", he asked rhetorically. "Your wife is dead."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, when those words settled slowly in their place. Charlie stood quietly, staring at the earth under his feet and Sarah felt her heart clench more and more painfully with each passing second. His despair hurt her like a white-hot knife on a bare skin.

"John...", Dixon finally spoke, in a resigned tone. "... is he alright? Safe?"

"Yes...", the woman replied quietly, feeling the knife turning in her heart, bringing even more pain. _Even now, he remembers about my son._, she thought bitterly, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. _Why did i have to ruin the life of such a wonderful guy...?_ "Y...yes. I sent him with Cameron to buy computer stuff. They don't know anything, and she won't let him out of her sight. He's as safe as he'll ever be."

The man nodded sadly.

"Good."

"We really need to get out of here.", Derek reminded. "Sitting here gives us nothing..."

He was suddenly cut off, when a phone rang nearby. Charlie took it out of his pocket and looked at the screen.

"It's her...", he said, hope raising anew in his voice. "It's her!"

"Make sure it's really her.", Reese replied, earning himself an angry, incomprehensible look.

"They can imitate our voices.", Sarah explained tiredly. "You need to be sure."

The man answered the call, lifting the device to his ear with a shaking hand.

"Baby...?", he whispered, wiping out tears flowing down his cheeks.

Sarah turned away from him, looking instead on the wasteland, everywhere around them. She didn't want him to see the emotions, dancing on her face right now.

* * *

"You think it'll do?", John asked, moving his gaze over the gigantic space of an underground parking lot. A delicate, soothing chill reigned here, stemming directly from the lack of murderous sun, burning everything today. Considering the hour, it was also relatively empty; only several dozen of cars, or so, stood in the subtle electric light.

"Yes.", beautiful cyborg replied stoically like always, analyzing. "It'll do."

The man sighed, looking at her lithe frame. There was nothing in her that could give an impression of a fight, that could come in a few hours. In jeans and a leather jacket, with dark hair flowing over her shoulders, she looked exactly like a normal teenager, shopping with her brother or a boyfriend.

_A boyfriend..._, he repeated the last thought in his mind, feeling his cheeks reddening. Then he sighed once more and scolded himself in his thoughts. _You're impossible, Connor... even in a situation like this..._

Thoughts like that came to his head more and more often, lately, and he knew that soon, there will come a time, when he'll have to face them. He was a teenager, alright, he had a right to his feelings and weaknesses, as of late though, his reactions and desires were becoming... dangerous. Unpredictable. Especially those concerning Cameron. He couldn't put off such an inside confrontation indefinitely. Not right now, however. Now he needed to focus on the task at hand.

"So, what now?", he asked. "We just wait?"

"Yes, John."

He shook his head, earning a look from her.

"I don't know.", he started. "I'm worried about them. You're sure that...", he trailed off, leaving her to fill out the gaps.

"Your Mother and Derek Reese are two of the best soldiers you know. Both today, and in the future.", she replied. "You can't help them, not by being near. It would be unwise and only add to their problems. All you can do, is to prepare in your own way."

"I know, Cam. I know.", he sighed with resignation, in reply. "I just..."

"Cromartie has nothing to gain from just killing them. He also knows that he won't be able to break them fast enough. It would take time, and you would know that something isn't right, making you move into a completely different place and rendering whole plan void. He can hope for one of two things. One, that you'll be one of the people to come to him – unlikely, and not that beneficial, since he would have to fight all of us, or..."

"Or do something to occupy them and find a way to draw me out.", he interrupted her. "I know. We talked about it already."

She gave a small nod.

"What way do you think it may be? How can he lure me out?"

"I don't know John. It can be many things.", she replied. "He can get one of their phones and call, imitating the voice and telling you to meet him somewhere. We would know, then, because he doesn't know the code. He can try to tail them, or put a wire on their things, or do something else altogether. Hard to tell, depends on how much time he spent preparing."

The boy nodded his head and when he looked at her again, his eyes were burning with determination.

"Alright then.", he said turning and looking over the empty parking lot again. "Let's wait for his move."

His companion nodded slightly in agreement, getting back into the black pickup.

"Whatever happens...", Connor whispered under his breath, going by her example and taking his place behind the wheel. "... his hunt ends today."

* * *

They stopped the jeep near a small complex. It was just a few buildings, mainly warehouses and work places, made from plywood and tinware plates, so the only building made from actual bricks and wood stood out, along with a cell tower standing nearby. There wasn't a single soul around.

"It's here?", Dixon asked uncertainly, looking out the window.

"Seems so.", Derek replied and opened the doors, coming out into the burning sun with a shotgun in one hand.

He didn't like this place. It was a good spot for an ambush, fuck it, with enough explosives it would be a very easy job to just blow the place up, to hell and back, and not a soul would know about it until morning, perhaps even longer.

_Luckily, the metal has little gain in just killing us with a bang in the middle of a wasteland..._

"Wait...how we...uh...", Charlie started once more. "How do we get inside here?"

"Getting inside is not the problem.", Sarah replied him, slamming the doors to their car. The man looked at her, and she walked to him and gave him a Glock, along with a spare magazine.

"Try to hit something metal.", she added and started at a trot towards the near settlements. Derek ran after her, passing her on the run.

"If they kill us here, remember I told you it was stupid.", he mumbled over his shoulder, and the woman just rolled her eyes.

"Concentrate, Reese."

They ran towards the small structure. Derek positioned himself by the door and raised his hand to stop them, then took a careful peek inside. After that, he moved quickly to the other side and did the same again, scouting the other side of the corridor.

"Looks clear.", he said and moved inside, with Sarah right behind.

It was dim inside. Only single rays of sunlight penetrated the boarded up windows and the air was heavy and damp. The pair moved carefully, checking corridor after corridor, covering each other. Charlie walked behind them, his attention focused, even though he looked kinda clumsy with a weapon, giving an impression of a man who's in the wrong place for himself.

Finally, in one of the rooms Derek's eyes met a sight, that one hand made him quite happy, on the other though, surprised and worried him a little. In the center of a small space, strapped to a chair with a solid amount of tape, sat a small, dishevelled and clearly scared blonde. There didn't seem to be any wounds on her, and she was gagged, eyes, wide with fear, scanning her surroundings crazily. When they met them, or to be precise, Charlie, the soldier saw a spark of hope, suddenly lightening up inside.

_Why..._, he thought, stimulating his mind _Why leave her alive..._

He saw Sarah's confused face at the edge of his vision, and knew that the woman's thoughts mirrored his own, more or less.

Charlie's reaction was very different, of course.

"Honey!", he screamed with clear relief as he saw her and started in her direction. If not for Sarah's strong hand suddenly stopping him, he would have jumped into the room right then.

"Don't touch her.", she warned, pushing him slightly away and looked under the chair.

"Derek...", she said a moment later, and the soldier turned his back to the boarded window and looked at what she pointed out.

When he looked closer, he saw that the chair rested on four mousetraps, here and there connected to some wires, attached to something under the chair itself.

"They never let you have a good day, do they?", he sighed with resignation.

Sarah turned her attention to Michelle.

"I'm gonna take the tape off.", she started slowly. "Don't move. Do not move, you understand? Not one inch."

She extended her hand and removed the tape covering woman's mouth in one swift movement.

"Oh God... oh God...", quiet sob resounded in the room.

"Hey. Michelle? Listen to me.", Sarah tried to get her attention. "Listen! You're sitting on a bomb. If you move, it'll go off."

"Baby...", Charlie said, kneeling down beside her. "We're gonna get you out of this chair, ok? And then we're all gonna get out of here... but... please, you have to listen to her. Please."

"Where is he?", Sarah asked quietly.

Michelle moved her head slightly in the direction of one of the corridors.

Derek moved that way, instantly.

"If I'm not back in 15 minutes, leave without me.", he said, walking past Sarah and entering the corridor, holding the weapon in front of him and scanning his surroundings with watchful eyes.

* * *

"Get me out...", Michelle begged them. "Get me out... just please... get me out..."

"Charlie.", Sarah said, hoping he would understand what she asked of him.

The man looked at his wife, his face torn with suffering, eyes full of tears.

"Michelle, please... Baby... shhhh..."

The woman shook her head violently.

"I'm trying, Charlie... I'm trying.", she answered, her voice breaking. "But the more I sit here, the more I wanna stand up. My legs are on fire..."

"It's the adrenaline.", Sarah commented from underneath, looking closely at the bomb strapped to the chair once more.

"I know it's the adrenaline!", Michelle exploded, crying. "I just have to get up... they're on fire, it's like they're full of ants..."

Sarah sighed quietly. She had to do _something_ to get her back into shape.

_Or we're all dead..._

Standing, she moved her hand and took hold of the blonde's face, forcing her to look up, and piercing her with a dark, burning stare. The only thing she saw in the woman's eyes, were oceans of fear.

"If you move...", she growled in a strong, firm voice. "You'll die."

"We all will!", the woman screamed back.

Charlie sighed quietly, looking helplessly from one of them to the other.

"Baby... hey...", he whispered. "It's all gonna be alright, I promise... we're gonna take you from here... it's all gonna be alright...

"No, Charlie...", the blonde shook her head and the man dropped his own. "It's never gonna be alright... never..."

_Sadly, she's probably right in this regard..._, Sarah thought bitterly, kneeling and focusing her attention back to the explosive under the chair. A moment later she spoke once more, addressing the man.

"There's a bag in the truck.", she started. "Red handles. I'm gonna need it, Charlie."

He raised his eyes, full of pain and looked at his wife, completely oblivious to everything that was happening around him.

"Charlie!", Sarah tried once more to get his attention, and this time she succeeded. He stood up and left the room, still awkwardly clutching a gun in his hand.

"What are _you_ doing here?", asked the blonde, her voice still shaking, just as he disappeared in the corridor. "I know he brought you, but you didn't have to come."

Sarah looked at her briefly.

"I did.", she answered calmly, even though she felt a wave of guilt, raising again inside of her, roaring angrily at the edges of her consciousness.

"For Charlie?"

"I just... did.", she repeated, looking into the other woman's eyes. "Frankly, I thought it would be easier."

And then, getting up in the dim light, she clarified in a hard voice, not leaving a single doubt. "I thought you would be dead."

Michelle dropped her head. She didn't even have the strenght to sob anymore, tears just flew down her face in silence. Sarah fought off another stab of guilt and turned to the exit, waiting for Charlie's return. She didn't have to wait for long, the man showed up in the corridor two minutes later, a red bag in his hand. There was something on his face, however, that put the woman on edge.

"He killed the car.", he answered her silent question, walking into the room. "We'll have to walk out of here."

Sarah looked at him slowly, in silence.

_It doesn't make any sense..., _crossed her mind and her eyes moved towards the bomb once more. She could almost feel something turn in her head, pieces of the puzzle slowly fitting into their places. She sat quietly for a while, following events and analyzing facts inside her head.

The change in her behaviour didn't escape Charlie's notice either, he looked at her now with a strange look on his face.

"What?", he asked uncertainly.

"It doesn't make any sense...", she replied slowly, voicing her previous thought. "He messes with the car and not us. We're human... we're not that hard to kill..."

And then, finally, all the pieces clicked and in a sudden enlightenment, Sarah extended her hand, and barely noticing Charlie's protests, barely feeling his weak attempts to stop her, she reached out and in one swift movement removed the item strapped to the chair's bottom, raising it to her eyes.

"Molding clay...", she said, showing it to their eyes and hearing a weak moan from Michelle, probably still expecting to be blown up any second. "Son of a bitch!"

She threw the green brick into the corner and reached for her phone, handing Charlie a knife with the other hand at the same time.

"Cut her free.", she commanded.

"It was a fake?", the blonde asked weakly. "This whole thing was a fake?"

"He wants John.", Sarah barked in return, looking at her and rising the device to her ear. "He doesn't have to kill us to get to him, but we're stuck him with no way back. I should have known when you weren't dead."

Then she focused her whole attention on the phone.

"17th November.", she said when he finally answered the call. "John, where are you?"

"2007.", resounded on the other side. "I'm shopping, just as you wanted, mom."

"Good. Is Cameron with you?"

"Yes, mom.", a sigh. "She's right here. Why do you ask? What's happening?"

"Doesn't matter, I don't have the time to explain now. Listen to me. I need you to stay out. Don't go home under any circumstances. Any, you understand?"

"Alright. But I would really prefer to know what's going on."

"Later. Don't call me, I'll call you."

"Alright. Be careful."

He hanged up and Sarah sighed quietly.

_Great... but what now?_

And just as that thought formed in her head, the time for planning was suddenly taken from her, when Derek's loud scream suddenly resounded from the depths of the building, accompanied by the sound of his heavy boots hitting floor in the run.

"Run! It's a bomb! Go, go!", the soldier screamed, barging into the room and pushing them outside. "Go, go!

They managed only a few steps before a powerful roar of an explosion blooming very near filled everything, and Sarah Connor's world fell into darkness, accompanied by the rumble of a crushing building.

* * *

"That was my Mother.", John said, looking at his companion sitting next to him, in passenger's seat.

"Are you sure?", she answered, looking back at him with those large, auburn eyes. In the time they spent on the parking lot so far, she changed her appearance a little, taking her favourite jacket off and tying her hair back into a bun, so that it wouldn't disturb her in fight, most probably coming soon. "You know that recognizing the voice is impossible, John."

"I'm sure, Cam. She didn't send me any place, or ask where I was exactly, she's not planning a trap then.", he confirmed. "I think he immobilized them somehow, and she's worried if I'm safe, since she can't get to me in time."

Cameron thought about it for a while, and then gave a small nod, making one strand of her hair fall from the bun, right on her forehead.

"It's possible. It means he won't tail them. He's planning something else."

"Yes..."

A silence fell between them, when John just looked at her, without a single word. Then, without thinking, as if in a trance, he reached out with his hand and moved the frivolous strand back, tucking it behind her ear. Her eyes jumped back to his face.

"Why did you do that?", she asked quietly.

The boy blinked, moving his hand back and turning his head.

"I... ehm...", he coughed.

_Because I'm an idiot..._

"...I don't know.", he finished, face still turned away from her.

"John...", she started, but suddenly the car was filled with the sound of a ringing phone once more, cutting off whatever was going to follow. The boy picked it up, opened and raised to his ear.

"17th November.", he heard his Mother's voice again. "Change of plans, John."

"What happened?"

"You need to go to the pier. As fast as you can, John. I'll meet you there."

His eyes met brown pools of the machine sitting next to him and the youngster nodded slightly, almost invisibly.

"I can't, Mom.", he replied, without breaking eye contact. "The car died and I'm quite far away. I'm stuck on a parking lot, at a shopping centre. I'm trying to get it back in shape, but it may take some time. What's happening?"

For a moment, no one answered on the other side.

"Where are you? Give me the address, I'll pick you up. And turn off your phone."

"Sure, Mom.", he replied, his lips curling slowly into a small, vicious smile. "Wait a moment."

* * *

"Everyone good?", Sarah asked, throwing a piece of wood aside. "Everyone good?"

Muffled voices and coughs resounded around, and the woman, counting them, came to the conclusion that none of them died. She raised her phone up, directing it towards a hole in the wall that invited a lot of sunlight into the ruined building, trying vainly to catch a signal.

"He blew up the cell tower.", Derek explained, coughing and walking towards her. "After he tapped your call to John."

"He has John's number and the code.", she replied, her face paling.

The man just nodded his head.

"Doesn't matter now.", he said. "We need to get out of here. Fast."

"He destroyed the car...", Sarah shook her head, her fear growing. "We'll have to walk to the highway on foot.

"Michelle!", Charlie's scream suddenly filled their ears. "Michelle, baby! Are you alright? Oh my God..."

Their heads turned in that direction and they saw the man rising a bloodied hand to his eyes, scarlet shining in the damned sunlight.

"She's injured.", he whispered. "Badly. With a bleeding like that...", his voice broke. "We need to get her to a hospital. As fast as we can..."

_Fuck..._, Sarah growled in her mind. _When things go south, they go all at once..._

_

* * *

_

A large, powerfully built figure got out of the car, stepping into the glow of electric light. His leather boots echoed with each step on the almost empty, underground parking lot of one of the less popular shopping centres in the city. His eyes scanned the surroundings warily, methodically looking for his target.

"Damned car!", resounded somewhere to his right and Cromartie's head turned in that direction, tilting slightly. "Sitting here so long because of a damn piece of junk!"

Cyborg turned right that way, his eyes focusing on a black pickup truck, standing near one of the walls, and the hooded driver behind the wheel. His face didn't change at all, but he would have probably smiled broadly, if he saw any sense in such trivialities. His CPU matched the voice to a long sought target.

Moving closer, he drew an UZI from behind his back and aimed at the driver...

...and then the car's lights suddenly turned on, the engine roaring with power.

Cromartie pushed the trigger, firing a round right into the small shape behind the wheel.

The car started forward, none the less.

A monstrous sound echoed in the underground space, metal grinding against metal, when the powerful pickup hit the figure, swiping it off its feet and carrying for a moment, only to crush it into a wall with a considerable speed a second later, trapping between steel and cracked stone.

A delicate face of a girl raised up slowly from under the hood, light shining on the bloodied metal, where the bullets managed to hit their target. Big, brown eyes flashed with crimson briefly.

"I fooled you.", Cameron said, voice emotionless. "Again."

* * *

**T.B.C.**

Afterword:

_Through a certain contrast, in this chapter I tried to show a mistake I believe Sarah made in that episode. When You have so few people you can call allies, lying to them and hiding truth in the presence of danger is not really the wisest choice available. I get it, she wanted to protect John, but __even so, at least Cameron should've been told the whole truth, if only to be ready for the potential, enhanced threat from Cromartie. The effect of this mistake almost cost the boy his life, though admittedly, along with his own stupidity._

_Also, I've got absolutely no idea about LA, never been there, so all of the places I write about come from my imagination or the movies. Please have patience, if You're a native ;).  
_

_ Next chapter: Cam and John fight against Cromartie. Also, one or two answers for some questions from the previous chapters, and maybe even a new character ;)._

_ Aquma, 26.07.2010._


	4. Chapter 4

Foreword:

_A direct continuation of chapter 3, first half in mostly the same tone. I won't talk about what'll come after, You'll have to see for Yourselves. Some surprises, possibly, though. This time, I managed to squeeze everything I wanted into the chapter, and it came out kinda packed with stuff. That's why it came out as a hellishly long one._

_Aquma, 30.07.2010._

_

* * *

_

*** Chapter IV ***

_~ 17 November, 2007 ~_

_~ Underground parking lot, Los Angeles, California ~_

Powerful hands thrust into the front of the car, tearing the metal plates like a wet paper. Cromartie resisted the weight crushing on him, blocking himself on the wall behind him for support. Slowly but surely, front wheels started to lift up, still whirling crazily. The back ones still gave the car enough power to keep him entertained, though. His enemy didn't wait any longer and jumped out of the vehicle. The cunning TOK-715 must have done something to block the gas pedal, however, because the car's advance on him didn't stop, even after that.

She flanked him, and his sensors picked up a Saiga type automatic shotgun in her hands. She lifted it up slightly, and shot from her hip, aiming at his knee. If not for the quick reaction and a slight change of his posture, the uran tipped shell would have probably destroyed one of his legs. It ended with deep damage to the structure of his hip and thigh, however.

In a response, Cromartie shifted his body's weight to one side of his cybernetic body, and stimulated one of his arms to run at a 100% capacity, at the same time weakening the other one and moving slightly to the side. Thanks to that, using the car's own force and a sudden change, he finally managed to push the vehicle, restricting his movements until now, off him. It drove into a wall right next to him with a roar, giving him cover from Cameron's fire at the same time.

And right on time, because a second later, a fountain of glass exploded above his crouched shape with a loud crackle, when another bullet from Saiga shattered one the side windows.

Cromartie changed his position slightly, moving and clearly considering his options. His weapon was somewhere under the car, and besides, it wasn't effective enough against a machine. He definitely wouldn't have an advantage in a shooting fight. He needed something else. Finally, seemingly reaching a decision, he grabbed the pickup's side doors with strength, and then pulled, tearing them off. Using them as a shield, he sprang from his cover, running straight at the lithe figure of his enemy.

Another shot teared the air, the bullet missing only slightly, glancing his leg. Another hit his improvised shield, turning it into Swiss cheese and loosing rest of the power on his chest. Cromartie waited no longer, moving his arm with all its power and throwing his improvised projectile right at the rebel TOK-715.

He hit the mark.

Cameron shook from the force, loosing her weapon, at the same time. It fell, sliding over the floor for a while, before stopping behind a small curb and under one of the cars.

She managed to turn, regaining her balance, before Cromartie crashed into her in full speed, knocking them both to the ground...

* * *

Robert Johnson looked incredulously at the black and white, silent image on his screen. His blue eyes widened more and more, when he saw a huge, well built man, with a face Johnson seemed to know from somewhere, tearing car doors off their hinges, in one effortless move. They became even wider, when the man used them as a shield, and nearly popped out of Robert's head, when he threw them like a kitchen plate...

_Like a fucking Captain America..._ -he thought incredulously, scratching his short haired head.

It was probably that thought, that finally made him regain his senses and reach for the phone. He had no idea what was going on here, but he had a certainty, that both cops and his superiors would want to know about it.

And then, he suddenly felt cold metal on his neck.

_Oh God..._

He swallowed loudly.

"Please... I have a wife... two children..."

"Put the phone down.", he heard a quiet voice behind him. "And no sudden movements."

He complied, putting the device back in its place.

"Please, don't kill me.", he whispered, quietly.

"I don't plan to. Unless You force my hand."

On the screen, the powerful man was kneeling on the chest of a small, shapely girl, pounding her face with his fists mercilessly. Johnson heard whoever was behind him cursing hellishly, a clear worry in his voice.

"Your friend?", he asked, uncertainly. "She seems to be in trouble."

"Shut up.", he heard a hiss behind him. "Tapes from today. All of them. I want to know where they are."

"All of them?"

"You heard me the first time. Don't make me repeat myself.", his oppressor replied. "I've got no time for it."

"There", Robert pointed his head in the direction of one of the cabinets. "They've got dates on them."

"Thank you.", he heard back, and then, with a hint of hesitation, the voice added. "Your wife and children... do you love them?"

Johnson blinked twice. _What does it matter?_

"Sure I do.", he replied sincerely, however. "They're all my life."

"Listen...", the cold steel moved back from his neck, the man knew better, however, than to make any violent maneuvers. "For their good, don't forget what you saw here. For their good, though, don't tell anyone about it, either. They'll take you for a madman. Quit this boring job, sell your house and move. Somewhere far. To the country, or into the mountains, you understand me? For their good."

"I don't understand...", he replied, shaking his head. "I don't know you, I don't get what you're talking about..."

"For their good.", the voice repeated. "Remember."

A moment later, Robert Johnson felt a sudden, numb pain, when something hit him on the head heavily, knocking him down and enveloping the world in darkness.

* * *

Cameron was in trouble. It didn't take a genius to get that. The scenario she found herself in was the worst possible for her, in a fight with Cromartie. She had an advantage of speed, agility, probably also an edge, somewhat, when it came to intelligence, but when a fight turned out like this, raw, brutal strength was quite often what decided the winner. And that field, was the one that undoubtedly was T-888's stronger point.

John ran, as fast as his feet could carry him. He knew Cameron wouldn't like his slight step out of the plan, but for the moment, he didn't care. He didn't want her to suffer more than she had to, for him. His heart beat furiously, her name, and the scene he saw on the screen, were the only things occupying his mind.

He stormed into the parking lot, barely regaining his balance on a turn, right in time to see Cromartie bending over a slightly battered, but still putting up a resistance – _thank God..._ - Cameron.

"Heeeeeyy!", he screamed, without thinking much. "Motherfucker! It's me you want!"

The powerful shape turned in his direction, crimson lightening the eyes, and then it rose, lifting his pretty companion, and throwing her with a monstrous strength a dozen feet or so, into one of the cars.

After that, Cromartie started to run right at him, slowly but surely building up his speed, like a train.

_Thankfully, she made him loose his weapon..._

The boy saw Cameron rising from the shattered car, at the edge of his vision, he didn't have time to watch, however. He ran...

... or so was his enemy supposed to think. When he reached one of the cars, however, he ducked behind it and activated the detonator, hidden in his pocket. In several parts of the underground space, one of them right next to his current position, powerful explosions suddenly blossomed, filling everything with a deafening roar and smoke. Cromartie stopped, looking around. His eyes moved to the burning car, and his mind worked, clearly trying to understand what was happening. A moment later, however, he started his run once more.

And then, the water rained on them from the ceiling.

Everywhere on the parking lot, the anti-fire drenchers were activated, all at once. It was an incredible amount of water, in one moment, pools started to form at their feet. Of course, John knew that they owed that to the slight "tweaking" he gave the systems a few minutes ago.

Cromartie stopped once more, sacrificing a few seconds to observe his completely drenched form. His observation was suddenly interrupted, however, when a storm of wet, shining, auburn hair, along with its owner, crashed into him with all the strength and weight of her synthetic body, knocking both of them down, right into the slowly enlarging pool at their feet.

"John! Now!", she screamed, putting all her strength into holding the other cyborg in place, and the boy broke into a run towards one of the walls. While running, he drew his Glock and fired a few shots right at the box that housed the controls of the electrical installation, that was his target. One of the bullets, probably by sheer luck, hit the lock, destroying it and throwing the small case wide open.

_Here goes nothing..._, he thought funnily, feeling his heart pumping blood into his veins furiously. _Nothing like a wet fun with power lines..._

Pulling out funny, yellow, rubber gloves from under his tunic, he put them on and reached out with his hand, tearing out one of the power lines, throwing blue sparks around. Then, without thinking too much, he lowered his hand, sinking the cable right in the pool at his feet, praying for the waders on his feet to be as foolproof as both the salesman, and Cameron, who checked them over and over for at least two hours, assured him.

_This just_ has_ to be the strangest fight I've ever took part in..._ ,crossed his mind, and then something he heard a loud bang and suddenly all lights went off, covering everything in velvet darkness.

The youngster picked the damned cable up, pulling it over the case, and then, for the hundredth time thanking his thoughtful friend, he reached to his belt for his flashlight, prepared for this reason exactly. Turning it on, he broke into a run, looking for the place where he last saw the fighting terminators.

_Two minutes... only two minutes..._

Reaching the place, he looked around carefully, noticing the huge form of the T-888 resting still on Cameron, as unmoving as itself.

_One minute, thirty seconds..._

He was just going to come closer and use his knife to uncover the port, counting the quickly running seconds in his mind, when his eyes suddenly fell on a shape, sticking out from under one of the cars. A smile crept on his lips, slowly.

Picking the automatic shotgun, he looked it over, carefully. Covered by the car from above and the curb from the side, the weapon wasn't as wet as everything else. He checked the magazine too. 8 shells. His smile broadened. Should be enough.

_One minute..._

He walked calmly to the still form of his oppressor and, putting all his strength into it, managed to push it off his friend.

_30 seconds..._

"That's for the life you took from me, motherfucker.", he whispered, aiming.

And then, with a maniacal grin, he emptied the magazine, one shell after the other, turning Cromartie's head into a spectacular bloody-metal pulp.

* * *

Sarah looked over her shoulder, glancing at Charlie, and Michelle, who was resting in his arms, turning paler with each passing minute. The woman sighed quietly, she didn't say a word, however. She had seen wounded people before and she had seen bleedings. Michelle was in a bad shape and the crazy ride she took part in, first on the highway, then a city road, was probably her last journey.

The car was Derek's doing. Both of them agreed, that it would be safer if he, as the only wanted man – she was, after all, officially dead – was the only one whose face will be remembered by the poor bastard who had to say goodbye to his barely working van, at a gunpoint. Sarah regretted that they coudln't get anything better, it wasn't a time to be picky, however. Derek was also the one driving.

"She's dying...", Charlie whispered in the back, swallowing his tears. "We won't make it. She's lost too much blood..."

Michelle was unconscious for a longer while now, so he stopped repeating over and over that everything will be alright.

No one had an answer for his words. What could they possibly say? Sarah felt a terrible emptiness inside. It was one thing, to know that in a few years, more or less half of humanity will die; it was something else altogether, to watch someone you know bleed to death. Someone close to a person close to you, also. And with you for a reason.

_Fucking metal monsters..._, she growled in her thoughts, pumping her anger and despair into the known regions of her soul.

"We can try, Charlie.", she replied at last. "We can only try."

Perhaps a minute later, Derek drove violently into the hospital's parking lot, stopping as close to the building as he could, and Charlie jumped out of the car, carrying poor Michelle in his arms and screaming for help at the top of lungs.

When the van started once more with squealing tires, Sarah, for the thousandth time today, cursed her miserable life, resting her head tiredly against the window.

"It's not over yet.", Reese said firmly, his eyes still on the road.

"I know.", she replied simply, but her voice was a little bit weak.

"John...?"

"His phone is turned off. Cameron's too.", she answered with an obvious fear.

"We need to find them."

"We can check bigger shopping centres in the city. I've got no better ideas for now."

"Alright.", he replied, pushing the gas pedal to its limits.

* * *

"How are you? Is everything alright?", he asked, taking his eyes off the road for a moment, and looking at her.

Her wounded face was covered by a hood once more, here and there you could also see blood stains on her clothes.

After their reckless fight, they took Cromartie's body to the car and drove as fast as they could, running away from the place just minutes before it got filled with cops and bystanders. Thankfully, planning the whole thing, they took under consideration that they would need a car, so the pickup they wasted wasn't theirs, it was just one of many private cars they scrapped during the action, in one way or another. Cameron, as it turned out, was very good at stealing cars. She could not only open the locks, but also deactivate alarms, if there was a need for discretion. All in all, the action came out surprisingly well.

_We make a good team together..._, crossed his mind.

The boy's conscience rebelled a little, because of the lightness with which they destroyed the property of others, he had to admit, though, that it was a small price to pay for finally getting rid of the murderous cyborg on their tracks.

"I'm functional.", his companion answered his question, bringing him back to present time, and looking curiously at one of her hands. "But not at one hundred percent."

Taking his eyes back to the road, at the edge of his vision he saw her hand move strangely, twitching, almost as if in a spasm.

"Something wrong with your hand?"

She nodded slightly.

"I think it's damaged."

The youngster sighed quietly. Cromartie battered his friend pretty badly.

"We need to ho home. I'll be able to look at you, and at least dress your wounds a..."

"No, John.", she said back, and it was so sudden and direct that he actually blinked, not understanding.

"What?"

"No.", she repeated, staring at him. "We can't go back home yet. There's a place I want to show you.

The boy glanced at her once more, but those big eyes under the hood were mysterious.

"And it has to be now?"

"Yes.", she replied after a moment of hesitation. "It has to be now."

The youngster sighed again, scrubbing eyes with his hand. He was tired, and he also hadn't contacted his Mother, probably going nuts by now, yet. It seemed, however, that whatever it was, it was clearly important for Cameron.

"Alright then.", he replied finally. "But let me call my Mother first."

She nodded and he reached to his pocket, taking out his phone, and turning it on. After a while, he chose Sarah's number from the list, looking once more at his friend, and almost hearing in his thoughts, what she was going to say.

"Talking over the phone while you're driving is dangerous.", she said then, and the boy felt a smile forming on his lips.

_Like an open book..._

"I know. I'll live.", he answered aloud and she scowled. She didn't comment the issue further, however.

The dull phone signal sounded once, twice... and then, finally, he heard his Mother's voice.

"John?", she asked fearfully. "John, is it you?"

"17 november. Yes, it's me, Mom."

"Are you alright? Everything good? Cromartie... he...", he heard almost at the same time on the other side.

Her voice was so full of worry, that the boy instantly regretted not making the call earlier. Truth be told, he was worried about her too, but so many things happened over last few hours that just didn't have time to think about it. He even forgot that his cellphone was still off, as Cromartie requested, so it wouldn't rise any suspicions. His cybernetic friend's phone, on the other hand, suffered in the water and would need a solid drying, if it was going to be worth anything at all. For quite a long time, Sarah was effectively cut off from her son. He was sorry he put her through something like that.

"I know. Don't worry about it now. I'm okay. Cameron took a little beating, but she'll cope. And what about you? Everyone alright?"

"John..."

It was just one word, but it was heavy with emotion, with sadness, pain and relief at the same time.

"Mom? Mom, is something wrong?"

"It's... it's Michelle.", the woman's voice answered in the phone. "She's injured. It's bad, John. She's in the California Hospital Medical Center. Can you get there?"

He felt something cold grip his heart.

"I can.", he answered weakly, glancing at his friend. "In about 45 minutes. I've got something to do first."

He didn't feel good about delaying his visit in the hospital, Charlie could need him after all. On the other hand, Cameron rarely asked for anything, so he wasn't going to back out of his promise. Michelle, he couldn't help anyway, and he instinctively felt his friend's request was something of importance. And his instinct got at least one thing right today.

"I'll be there as fast as I can.", he added.

"Very well, son. Please hurry."

He hung up and looked into a pair of brown eyes.

"We need to hurry, Cam.", he said, accelerating the car. "Where to?"

"I'll guide you. Turn right here."

* * *

The place his cyborg's directions took him to, was a series of different warehouses, situated near the harbor. Part of them was the property of private companies, the other part, however, was a space open for renting. Cameron got out of the car and guided him towards one of such places, and when they got inside, he saw a whole mass of large, 15x8 feet containers, locked, numbered and rented for private use.

"You've got a storage space here?", he asked uncertainly.

Cameron looked at him from under the hood and nodded her head.

"Yes."

He shook his head in incomprehension.

"Where did you get the money? And what do you need this place for?"

"From different things.", she answered simply. "I don't sleep."

_Right..._

His second question was ignored, the boy concluded, however, that she was just going to show him.

Cameron finally stopped in front of one container, with a '127' number painted on the wall, and took a small key out of her pocket. Then she opened the padlock, removed the chain and pushed solid, tinware, but strengthened with steel, doors open easily. The sunlight shone inside, revealing a strange image to the boy's eyes.

It wasn't exactly a storage space. Not anymore. There was a lot of equipment here: a laptop on one of the cupboards, quite a sizeable amount of weapons and ammo, and a table, that was clearly used by someone to work with some chemicals. With a slight surprise, John also saw a refrigerator and an electric oven, in different corners – the place was obviously connected to a power source. Everything looked more like a workshop, then a warehouse.

His attention was also caught by a metal bar, leaning against a wall near the oven. He came closer, and picked it up in both hands. _Coltan..._

"This is from that shelter...", he whispered quietly. "You took it?"

"Yes."

"Why?", he asked, not being able to understand.

"Because I need it.", she replied, shutting the entrance behind them and directing her steps towards one of the cupboards near the wall. Then, suddenly, as if remembering something, she walked back and pulled at a string of some sort, turning on a small light bulb above their heads.

"I'm sorry.", she commented, turning back towards the cupboard.

At the same time, she took her tunic off, and thanks to that John could finally evaluate the level of her damage. Her face was heavily bruised and injured, on the upper chest he could also see bullet marks in several places. Right arm, clearly damaged, was twisted in a strange, unnatural way, left one – the one that twitched in the car – probably also had some inside damage.

"All of this...", he moved his hand around to illustrate. "It's like your secret hideout, or something, right?"

She thought about it for a moment, taking some kind of ointment and some bandages out from the cupboard.

"Yes. My secret hideout."

The boy whistled. He always knew Cameron kept secrets from them, none of them knew a thing about what she did at night, after all. He didn't expect something like this, however.

"Why did you bring me here, then?", he asked the question bothering him at last.

She looked into his eyes, silent once again, for a moment. Once more, he could almost see a calculation going on behind her eyes, this time, however, he had a feeling it involved something else entirely. It wasn't directly about his safety. Somehow, John had an impression it was about... her.

"Because I want us to leave Cromartie's body here.", she replied, finally.

The boy blinked, staring at her.

"You... what?"

"His endoskeleton. I want to leave it here.", she repeated.

"I heard you the first time, Cam.", he answered, irritated. "But why? You know what the risks are. We _have_ to destroy what's left of them. We just have to, you understand?"

"I understand.", she replied.

"Then why..."

"Because I need it. Just like coltan.", she cut him off. "I'm resistant, but not indestructible, John. Each fight brings some damage. I fix what and how I can, but some things just can't be repaired, and his parts are largely compatible with mine.

The youngster stared at her silently, his eyes going wider every with every second.

"I can't keep you safe when I'm not functional. I can't be functional without spare parts. I can't have spare parts, if I destroy every single one we get. This way, I'll just wear out more and more, and finally, you'll have to leave me behind, because I'll be more of a trouble than a strategic asset..."

_Oh my God..._

He felt as if someone gave him a slap on the face. Her voice trailed off somewhere, even though the boy was quite sure she was still talking. The only thing he could hear right now, however, was his own heartbeat.

_Oh God..._ , he repeated once again in his mind, his world whirling. _Oh God... how could I've been so selfish..._

She fought for him and got injured for him. She also cared for herself, when everyone else seemed not to give a fuck whether she walks or crawls. His imagination showed him an image of her, sitting right here, in this place, repairing some inside damage none of them even knew about and the boy felt a wave of disgust for himself rising inside of him. A wave so powerful, that he felt almost nauseous. With all his beautiful talks about self-worth and objectifying, when it came to actual acts, he still treated her like a tool. Worse, even, since you do care for your tools.

_Never again..._

He walked to her, instantly, and in a fit of emotions, took her face into his hands. She stopped whatever she was talking about and fixed those auburn pools on him, tilting her head slightly.

"I'm sorry, Cam.", he whispered softly. "I'm so sorry..."

"For what, John?", she asked quietly, not understanding.

"For... for everything...", came his reply, after a hard swallow. "I didn't care... none of us cared about the shape you're in. Of course you can keep him. Do what you want with him, disassemble him piece by piece, I don't care. Just don't tell my Mother for now. I'll tell her myself... after a while.", then, a second later he added "And if you ever need anything more, let me know. I'll help you out. _Anything_, Cam..."

"Thank you."

"No.", he shook his head, moving his thumb over her cheek affecionately. "I should be thanking you. For all the wounds, for everything... all the things you do, to keep me alive."

"It's my mission, John.", she replied simply, still staring at him, and not taking her face out of his hands. "You don't have to thank me."

He just shook his head once more with a sigh.

"Yeah, it's your mission. It doesn't mean you don't have to be appreciated for what you do, though. I'm alive only thanks to you. This has to be worth something, right? And everything that's worth something, should be thanked for."

She was silent for a while. Then, a shadow of a smile slowly crept on her lips. A very beautiful smile.

"I understand.", she replied quietly, drowning his eyes in brown depths. "Thank you for explaining."

For a longer moment, none of them said a thing after those words. They stood there, Cameron's face still in his palms, as if the script suddenly ended, and they didn't know what to do next. And then, little by little, the boy started to be aware of his heart, beating stronger with each thump. Second by second, the peachy smell of her hair, smoothness and warmth of her skin under his fingers became more apparent, more real.

One of his hands moved without his consent, stroking her neck delicately, almost carresingly and the boy drew a deep, shaky breath.

"You're nervous...?", she said quietly, tilting her head.

"Yes...", he replied in a hoarse voice, feeling himself unable to take his eyes off her lips. Staring at them, he noticed a glimmer of bloodied metal nearby, where a bullet reached its target.

_That's what she is..._, he reminded himself. _Deep inside, that's what she is..._

That thought should have worked like a bucket of cold water. Like a safety valve, keeping what was good from what was bad, not letting him complicate his life in ways he wasn't sure he would be able to bear. It should have... because then Cameron, still in that quiet, suddenly very sensuous in his ears voice, asked...

"Why...?"

... and rather than that, his thoughts melted suddenly, when the remaining resistance crumbled under the pressure of his desires.

When their lips met, at first there wasn't any reaction from her. The boy felt a bit silly, as if he was kissing a sculpture, but then, just when he was going to move back, Cameron started to gradually, almost a little uncertainly, copy his own motions. What was a slightly one sided, awkward kiss in the beginning, soon turned into a truly hot, passionate experience. He felt her arms close around him in a hug, a little bit awkward because of the damaged arm. The bandages and a tube of ointment held in them fell at their feet.

_Oh God..._, a single thought flashed in his mind, finally. _Oh God... what am I doing...?_

He moved back slightly, having trouble breathing and feeling his heart wanting to break out of his chest. Even this distance required almost all the willpower he had at his disposal. He coughed, his face reddening, feeling her hug relax.

The crazy, magical moment passed... reason was slowly taking its rightful place.

"I... erm...", he thought for a while, still observed by her cautious stare, which didn't make anything easier.

_How will you explain _that_ to her, smartass? How will you explain what you just did?_

"John...", she spoke again softly, and a moment later he saw her touch her lips with one finger, a strange expression on her face. "John... you kissed me...", she added after a moment.

_Just don't ask me why... just please, don't ask..._

"Ah... well... yes... ha... hahaha..."

_John Connor... you're a hopeless fool..._

She looked at him again, touching her lips once more.

"John, why..."

_Don't ask, because I've got no answer!_

"Later, Cam. We have to go, remember?", he cut her off quickly, walking toward the exit and Cameron just tilted her head a little. He felt terrible, the worst sort of a bastard and jerk. He had the feeling that he used her somehow, gained on her lack of understanding and innocence. He saw no other way out of it right now, though. Escape seemed the only one. "Charlie's waiting for us..."

And then, he suddenly stopped, remembering something very important. Even though he wanted nothing more than to be somewhere else already, to have time to think about everything that happened, something inside of him wouldn't let him, pulling all his alarm strings with a force.

_I promised myself..._ , resounded in his head. _Never again..._

"Your wounds...", he started, turning to look at her once again, moving a slow stare over her injured face and the strangely twisted arm. "Perhaps we should take care of them first, before..."

Her eyes fell to the bandages and ointment, lying on the floor.

"I'm alright.", she answered, rising her stare once more. "The damage is not so severe. I can repair myself at home."

He contemplated her words for a while. He didn't exactly like the idea of her walking around with an injured face and damaged arms, and the potential troubles with passing as a human weren't the only reason. He really wanted to get to the damn hospital, however, and those injuries couldn't hurt her, after all.

_Why does everything have to be so damn complicated today?_, crossed his mind with irritation.

"You sure?", he asked at last. "We can stay for longer."

She shook her head.

"Yes, John. I'm sure. You want to go to the hospital."

He gave a slow nod. He did.

A moment later, when he was waiting in the car for her, as she, carefully looking around, took Cromartie's body - hidden in an exceptionally huge rolled carpet - to her hideout, the one thought that came to his head was...

_Why...? Why did I do it?_

Then, his memory reminded him of her soft, warm lips and the boy shook his head, sighing.

* * *

Walking through the hospital corridor and looking at the crying shape of a man sitting in a chair, the boy instantly knew what had to happen. Something cold gripped his heart, a mixture of pain, sadness, anger and guilt, that made his own eyes water at once.

For a moment, he didn't knew whether he should come closer or not. He was afraid Charlie will hate him, direct his rightful anger on him. After all, it was John who, after 8 long years, brought him back into his and his Mother's lives, starting this nightmare for both him and his wife. The boy wasn't sure if he would be able to endure it, if it happened.

Finally, though, his foots moved and took him near the crying man. Charlie needed him right now, his own fears had to be inferior to that fact.

_If he doesn't want to see me, he'll definitely let me know..._

He sat close to his might-have-been stepfather, putting an arm over his shoulders and Charlie instantly raised his reddened eyes on him. For a moment, something fought on his features, his lips trembling from untold emotions. Then the man dropped his head once again, resting one hand on the palm of the boy, who, unknowingly to himself, just then let out the breath he was holding.

They sat like that for a while, in silence. Finally, fighting with himself, the boy made a decision and spoke.

"Would...", he started in a weak, hoarse voice, and then coughed. "Would it... bring you any comfort to... to know, that the monster... that I blew his head to pieces...?"

"No...", Charlie replied, after a moment of silence. "No, Johny... I don't think anything can bring me comfort today..."

The boy nodded his head sadly, turning his eyes away, but then, Dixon spoke once again.

"...but it would bring me satisfaction..."

* * *

The meeting with his Mother went exactly as he expected. When she saw him, the woman threw herself into his arms, hugging him like a lost treasure, visibly shaken. Even his uncle, standing nearby, seemed to look at them with quite a sizable amount of relief. Then, Sarah moved back a little, watching him closely.

"Cromartie...? He didn't hurt you?"

"No, Mom.", he replied calmly, looking back. "But we hurt him."

Her expression changed, incomprehension crossing her features, and the boy just smiled slightly.

"We don't have to worry about him anymore.", he added, watching with some satisfaction the growing amazement on the faces of both his Mother and his uncle. "He's melted junk now.", he lied smoothly.

Derek was first to regain his composure. He gave a broad smile and patted the boy on his back.

"Good work, John."

His Mother's reaction was a lot different than he expected, though, because suddenly he was in her arms once again, hugged with a strength of a titan.

"I'm glad you're okay.", she said and the boy decidedly agreed. So many things could have gone wrong this day...

* * *

His hands moved methodically, wrapping bandages over shapely waist and shoulders. Not looking at the quite small, naked breasts took all the willpower he had. He was proud of himself, however, because he almost succeeded.

They spent last two hours on gradual repairs and dressing of all the wounds she received in their last fight. At first, she was clearly going to take care of them herself; when the boy showed up, carrying both a first aid kit and a toolbox, she was visibly surprised. She made no protests, however, when he offered his help.

"Alright. Not too tight? Can you move your shoulder?", he asked, adjusting the last bandage.

She moved her shoulder slightly and raised her auburn stare at him.

"No, John. It's good. Thank you.

"You're welcome. I think this is it.", he mumbled in reply, putting the first aid kit back and moving his eyes away from this brown depth. He couldn't look her in the eyes, since their visit in her little, secret workshop.

He noticed, however, that she tilted her head slightly, watching his reaction.

"John...", she spoke again, when he was already on his way to the exit. "Did I do something wrong again?"

He blinked twice and looked back at her, surprised.

"Wrong? Why?"

"You won't look at me, and you avoid my company.", his companion replied, putting a loose T-shirt over her head, which once again hastened his heart rhythm a little. "As if you were angry with me. But I don't know what for."

_Angry...? With her? That's the conclusion she drew?_

He walked to her with a sigh.

"I'm not angry, Cam.", he replied, taking her face into his hands, which summoned a wave of memories. He didn't move his hands away, however. "Not with you."

"With someone else?", she asked uncertainly.

"With myself."

The expression on her features changed a little, a spark of incomprehension crossed them.

"Why are you angry with yourself?"

"It's hard to explain", the boy replied, sighting inside his soul and resting his forehead against hers, tempting his fate with the closeness of her lips once again. "I'm not sure what I'm doing and why."

Cameron looked at him in silence for a while.

"Troublesome.", she finally replied in a quiet voice, and when he looked at her questioningly, he added. "Not being sure why you do something. Troublesome."

He smiled a little, with just the corners of his mouth.

"As if you could know that.", he replied jokingly. "You have it easy. You analyze everything, draw conclusions and you always know the 'how' and the 'why'."

She shook her head slightly.

"Not always."

"Not always?", he blinked. "When didn't you know?"

When her hand suddenly touched his neck, in the same caressing way that his own touched hers just a few hours ago, the youngster jumped, surprised, feeling a shiver running over all of his body. His surprise exploded fully, however, only when a moment later her lips touched his own in a short, sweet kiss.

"Then.", she replied, letting go of him and rising, auburn hair waving in the move. "I'm not entirely sure why I did that."

The boy looked at her, blinking without a word.

"Troublesome.", she added at the door, before she walked out, leaving him wide-eyed and with his jaw on the floor.

* * *

Thy sky was crying. Heavy droplets fell down from grey clouds, hitting black umbrellas belonging to people who gathered on the graveyard, running down their elegant, tactful clothes. Rain also drummed on the lid of a beautiful, white coffin, slowly being lowered into the earth, wetting the flowers that rested on it.

John Connor stood a little distance away, under a big, branchy tree, along with his Mother, Derek and Cameron, watching Charlie Dixon, in a black suit, receiving condolences from the grievers with an empty, emotionless face. The boy knew that Charlie's expression was a mask, one that was easy enough to wear, now that he cried most of his tears out during the last couple of days. The pain was still there, however. The pain was always there.

The youngster turned his head, looking first at Derek's hard features, then his Mother's sadness, and then, finally, his friend's expression, as mysterious as ever.

Then, he turned away and started walking slowly, without a word, towards their car, letting the rain wet his clothes and run down his face in streams.

No condolences, no words could repay what he took from Charlie Dixon that fateful day when he secretly visited his house, bringing into motion a chain of events that ended today, on this very graveyard. The boy knew, of course, that nothing was that simple, that his later decision to ask for his help probably saved his uncle's life. But still, right now, at this particular moment, under the sway of emotions in his heart, he would gave up everything to go back in time and stop himself.

The time, however, was merciless. Insensitive to the human wishes, for now.

Walking along the small pathway, John Connor was very grateful to the rain, hiding tears running down his cheeks.

* * *

A small, grey cat meowed loudly, touching a carton pizza box with his nose. He was just going to start licking the leftovers, when suddenly, he raised his head, alarmed, his ears standing erect, listening. The sounds of speeding cars and the tumult of everyday life reached him, but there was nothing exceptionally dangerous in them. The small one knew better, however.

He felt something coming.

And his hunch proved right.

He turned back and started running, screaming loudly in his own language, just in time to escape the big, blue ball of lightening that suddenly materialized in the middle of his favourite trash heap, brightening his small form from behind.

The massive, naked man kneeling in the middle slowly raised his head, looking around the incredible world with blue eyes.

And then, a wide smile crept on his lips.

**T.B.C.**

**

* * *

**

Afterword:

_And so, it's the end of the "Mousetrap" story arc. Also, John finally breaks and for once, acts like a teenager should, bringing about the "troublesome" reaction. Will he regret it later? Who knows ;)._

_ To answer a question that's bound to rise in some heads: No, this doesn't mean that John Henry won't make it to the story. His road will just be a little bit longer, and with more turns._

_ Next chapter: consequences of the events in chapter 3 and John, facing his emotions, kept hidden inside up until now. You can also finally expect the promised new character (kinda hinted in this chapter), and the return of some plot fragments from previous chapters._

_ As always, comments and reviews very appreciated!_

_ Aquma, 01.08.2010._


	5. Chapter 5

Foreword:

_Yay! It rained with reviews! Thanks a lot to everyone who decided to write a comment/review after the last chapter. I won't list you, since there were so many, but you know who you are. There is simply no better reward for me._

_This chapter took a lot longer than usual, but it can't be helped: life. Generally, for the coming weeks, updates will come less often, I'll try to still keep some regularity (once every two-three weeks). When I'm finished with my practice, things should return to normal, but you never know. _

_ It was also supposed to be quite a bit longer, but it turned out that if I put everything I wanted inside, it would be around 9k long, so I split it in half and thanks to that, chapter 5 is here faster, and chapter 6 should be done a little bit faster too (because I've got around 35% done already)_

_ I hope it'll be a fun read, despite all the editing._

_P.s. Once again, special thanks to uncommoner, for some details that were used in this, and the last, chapter.  
_

_Aquma, 14.08.2010_

_

* * *

_

*** Chapter V ***

_~ 2 december, 2007 ~_

_Connor household, Los Angeles, California_

Their bodies were intertwined in an impossible way. The boy felt his heart pumping life-giving blood with all its strength, felt his muscles work powerfully with each move, his lungs fighting for every breath. Then, at last, he groaned loudly, letting the air out and feeling her body move one more time, pinning him to the floor more strongly. Cameron sat on him and he felt her auburn hair tickling his face.

"Argh...", came out of his mouth and his body stretched one more time, in a last titanic effort.

Then, strength left him and his hand tapped a few times on the floor next to him.

"Enough...", he managed. "I can't... anymore... I... give... up..."

His friend straightened slightly and tilted her head.

"You did quite well, John.", she said, piercing him with that brown stare. "I still don't understand why do you want to do this, though. You can't defeat me in unarmed combat."

The boy laughed weakly, but he was so tired that he didn't even have the strength to get out from underneath her lithe, but also slightly heavy, body. He stayed as he was, lying under her and slowly catching his breath.

"Of... course... I can't...", he replied between heavy breaths. "That's why... I want to... train with you..."

Her head tilted to the other side.

"I don't understand.", she said quietly.

He was silent for some time, waiting long seconds for his lungs to finally return to a normal rhythm. Speaking with intervals didn't really suit him much.

"You're a perfect sparing-partner, Cam.", he answered finally. "You're stronger, faster, more resilient, and you always will be. Training with you, I always fight with an enemy who's as demanding as I need. In all forms of combat."

She seemed to think on his words for a moment, and then nodded her head slightly.

"Yes. It's true.", she agreed. "But I still don't understand why it matters to you. Hand to hand combat skills won't be very useful in the future."

The boy closed his eyes with a sigh. His memory showed him an image of a man, struggling in his grasp, when the youngster took his life away, second after second. He almost felt his victim's desperate kicking again, almost heard the wheezing coming out of the man's mouth.

_You won't forget it, boy..._, he heard his uncle's voice in his head. _You won't..._

He shook his head, fighting the memories off.

"I need to stay alive to reach this future first, Cam.", he answered simply, his voice shaking slightly. "And machines aren't my only problem right now. Besides, I've heard about the Greys too. Being able to stand your own in a hand to hand fight might be an asset, even in 20 years time."

The cyborg seemed to consider his words once more, for a moment.

"Yes.", she replied finally. "You're right, John. Thank you for explaining."

The boy opened his eyes and smiled, staring into the auburn pools, directly above him.

"I know." he said. "And you're welcome."

A moment of uncomfortable silence came. Cameron was still on him, as if she didn't see any reason to move, which might have been true, actually. For his part, John had reason enough, as his body slowly started to forget about the fatigue. His imagination woke up again, this time for something completely different, filling his mind with images, each one hotter then the one before it, and reminding him of the events a few weeks back.

_...__Cameron started to gradually, almost a little uncertainly, copy his own motions. What was a slightly one sided, awkward kiss in the beginning, soon turned into a truly hot, passionate experience.._

He shook his head, dispelling the memory and his face reddened slightly, making him turn his eyes away.

"Cam...", he said softly and then coughed, to clear his throat. "Get off me, please."

She complied, this time without searching his words for hidden meanings, thankfully. Perhaps she decided that her weight was uncomfortable for him. He couldn't help himself, however, and couldn't stop his eyes from following her lithe body, as she slowly rose.

_...His surprise exploded fully, however, only when a moment later her lips touched his own in a short, sweet kiss..._

His memories attacked once more, reddening his face even more.

_I didn't take this little detail under consideration, when I asked her to train me..._ , he scolded himself inside and followed her example, rising.

Right on time, too, because a moment later his Mother's voice sounded from the direction of the garage's door.

"John? You there?", she asked, putting her head inside, and the youngster was suddenly thankful that she didn't do that a few seconds earlier, because he wasn't sure if he would be able to explain himself before she exploded.

_ I'm not sure if I would be able to explain myself even if she didn't explode..._

"I've got a problem with the computer...", the woman started once more, getting him away from dangerous thoughts and opening the door wider. Then, she suddenly stopped, looking from one of them to the other. "What are you doing here?", she asked suspiciously.

The boy wiped his face and shoulders with a towel, and then smiled at his Mother reassuringly.

"We're training, Mom.", he answered with a calmness he didn't feel.

"Training?", she didn't let go. "Training what?"

He sighed quietly, placing the towel on his shoulder and walking towards the door.

"I asked Cam to prepare the best martial arts synthesis she can, based on her human anatomy knowledge and outside sources.", he replied, stopping near his Mother. "And to make a training program for me."

"You're learning ... martial arts?", she asked uncertainly, piercing him with a stare.

"Yeah."

"From a machine?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders, laughing.

"I've done weirder things in my life, Mom.", he started, with a smile still on his face.

_...He felt her arms close around him in a hug, a little bit awkward because of the damaged arm. The bandages and a tube of ointment held in them fell at their feet..._

His smile paled slightly.

"... and Cameron is a perfect sparing partner.", he saved himself, masking embarrassment with a fake smile and confidence.

His Mother watched him for a moment in silence, and the boy couldn't help but wonder how much could she actually see in his face. She didn't criticize him in anyway, however, saying only:

"Just be careful. She can punch a hole in your head with one swing of an arm."

"I won't.", Cameron assured her, stoically. "I'm not operating at 100% during our trainings."

Sarah looked at her doubtfully and scowled.

"Who knows.", she mumbled under her breath, turning back to her son, who only sighed quietly.

Since the time he told his Mother about their fight with Cromartie on the parking lot, her relation with his cybernetic friend got a little colder again, if it can be called that, even, considering they were never really friendly. The woman obviously held it against Cameron, that she let the confrontation happen, and arguments that it was John's idea and it was a success were blocked by a wall they couldn't conquer.

_Two steps forward, one step back._, he thought. _We're lucky she doesn't know about everything that happened that day..._, the perspective alone filled him with dread.

"So?", he said aloud. "What can I do for you, Mom? You mentioned something about the computer?"

The woman nodded slightly.

"He showed me a strange screen. Blue one.", she answered, and then, her gaze wondered to the the brown-eyed cyborg standing nearby. "Oh, how I hate those electronic gadgets."

"Alright.", the boy replied, shaking his head. "Give me a moment, I'll take a shower and help you out."

"Thank you.", the woman answered, and then, turning once more to Cameron, she added. "And you, make yourself useful and go shopping. A list is attached to the refrigerator."

His friend passed her in silence and walked out of the garage, her hair dancing to the rhythm of calm steps. When she walked by him, however, his nostrils took note of the peachy smell of her shampoo, despite his will.

_...Second by second, the peachy smell of her hair, smoothness and warmth of her skin under his fingers became more apparent, more real..._

He shook his head, still under the watchful gaze of his Mother.

_Oh, to hell with it all..._

"I'll be right back with you...", he said over his shoulder, and walked out of the garage in energetic steps. Cold shower was exactly what he needed right now.

* * *

Standing on the – what else – purple tiles, John Connor looked into his own eyes, green like an emerald, reflected in the mirror. His hair was still dripping with cold water, it ran down his face and body.

Last two weeks were hard for him. Despite his best intentions, he didn't manage to face his emotions so far. They were becoming more and more intense with each passing day. Bah! Day! Try hour! Both his memory and imagination ambushed him with images of Cameron's closeness constantly, and slowly, he was running out of ideas to push them back.

What's worse, he was also running out of his desire to do so.

_What's happening with me...?_, the boy thought with a resignation, gazing at his reflection.

But then, he shook his head, irritated.

Thinking like that was, in large part, the reason for his current predicament. There was never anything good that came out of lying to yourself, and in truth, deep inside, he knew well enough what was happening. Pretending it was something else was his way of evading the consequences, his way of postponing the inevitable moment of confrontation with these dangerous feelings. You couldn't evade forever though...

_About time to clear this mess up..._

His reflection was staring at him with a mixture of helplessness and fear.

"Is that possible?", he asked quietly.

Deep inside he knew, though, that this question was yet another subtle evasion. He didn't want to, he couldn't say those words. He couldn't face the realization, that the time for questions was long past.

_But we can't always have what we want..._

He closed his eyes. For reasons he couldn't really get, not looking into his own, reflected eyes, somehow gave him more courage.

_Now or never..._

"I've got a crush on her...", he whispered in a voice soft like the touch of wind, and saying those words cost him more strength than any others in his life. "I've got a crush on Cameron", he repeated, this time with more power, more confidence.

Yes. The truth. Finally. Supposedly, the first step in fighting every addiction lied in admitting that you have a problem.

"And I have a problem...", he whispered again in that same, resigned tone, opening his eyes to look into their green depth's reflection again. "A damn big one..."

The forbidden fruit, as the say, always tastes best. Being in a mood for honesty with himself, however, the boy didn't feel like pretending that his reasons for this infatuation were that trivial. He knew that, in truth, they lied much, much deeper than that. Cameron was... perfect. In her own – and his, it seemed – strange way, she was a reflection of everything he wanted and needed in a woman. She was strong, firm and loyal... she also couldn't be killed that easy, which was something of importance for a man like him.

_She's undeniably beautiful, too... _, his mind offered, for a moment giving way to the imagination, bringing both memories and dreams on its wings.

He shook his head. All of this didn't make this fruit any less forbidden, though.

There were so many reasons for what was happening to him to be wrong, unreal, sick and destined to fail, that he didn't even want to contemplate all of them, one by one. There were so many questions...

_How to stop this?_, despite being painful, seemed to be the most important one right now.

Of course, Cameron deserved such feelings, like anyone else, possibly more. She was a person – he tried to teach her that himself, after all. She had a right to love – provided she was capable to do so – _was she?_ - and be loved. Problem was, he couldn't let that happen. Not as much because of her, as because of him. He couldn't afford to love a cyborg. Despite all nice-sounding 'No fate but what we make', John Connor knew very well, what the future held for him. There wasn't, there couldn't be a place in it for Cameron as his lover. And to love her, only to lose her... he couldn't stomach that. He needed to stop it now, before it was too late. Only... how? How to do it before his will finally breaks? There were fractures in it already, after all. How to banish her from his thoughts and dreams?

_How the fuck am I supposed to do that?_, he asked in his thoughts, turning the water on and splashing some – cold and nice – on his face. And then, continuing his new policy of being honest with himself, he added: _And do I really want to, still?_

_

* * *

_

Derek Reese sat comfortably on the sofa, changing the channels lazily with the move of his fingers. On the screen, some pair was arguing just now, whether they should move to a new house when the child was born. The man, handsome, smooth and dark-haired waved his hands dramatically and his wife – second, as she didn't forget to remind him – cried showy, crocodile tears.

_Oh, the problem those people have..._, he thought funnily, and in spite of himself, with a little contempt. _This is what thrills them? This is what they see as a problem in their lives?_

He shook his head in disbelief. Their lives were so... trivial. So beautifully devoid of any complications and danger, devoid of challenges and hardships, arranged in a world in which more and more things were done for them. First by someone else, a different person, and then...

_And then by what's going to be their doom..._, crossed his mind and his face darkened. _Perhaps that's where the problem lies... We became too weak, too dependant on both others, and the things created by them..._

Speaking of things, behind his back he heard Sarah and John Connor arguing over the screen of a laptop, shining in blue. Listening to that, the soldier had no doubts from whom the future leader of mankind inherited his thorny character. He smiled slightly. Sometimes, the Mother and Son were like two droplets of water.

"I told you to leave the anti-virus alone, Mom.", the boy repeated tiredly. "Poking around the net for all the things you constantly make me search really _needs_ a good protection."

"I don't like it, that it does something by itself."

"It _doesn't_, Mom. I set it up. Me. John Connor. Your son."

"But it turned on by itself.", she disagreed.

"Yes. Because I _commanded_ it to."

"You don't know that for sure!"

The boy sighed tiredly and shook his head.

"No. You're right.", he replied in an outwardly serious, innocent tone. "I'm sure it'll get up any minute, shouting 'I'm Skynet, destroyer of worlds!'"

The woman hit him on the back of his head lightly.

"Don't make fun of me!"

"I'm sorry, but...", the youngster paused, and the shook his head once more, probably finally deciding that this argument was pointless. "Forget it."

He got up from the table and moved towards the stairs.

"I'll go get the second laptop.", he said over his shoulder. "Thankfully, I _was_ farsighted enough to buy two. Perhaps I'll be able to get this junk back in shape..."

"Speaking of junk...", Derek interrupted him suddenly, turning the irritating, idiotic tv show off. "Where did you misplace your metal?"

An uncomfortable silence reigned for a moment. John looked at his Mother, who in turn moved her eyes over the refrigerator, searching for the note she left there before.

"She's out, shopping.", she answered finally, and then looked on her watch. "But damn, it was two hours ago. She really is rather late."

The soldier rolled his eyes.

_Probably scheming something in that damn, electronic brain of hers..._

"You could at least control it better.", he growled, irritated, over his shoulder. "You don't have the slightest idea where she's roaming and who she's murdering."

He felt his nephew's hard, relentless stare on him, and for the thousandth time wondered, how was it possible that the future leader of the resistance grew so attached to a machine and put so much trust in it.

"Don't you worry about it.", the boy replied coldly, and then turned back to his Mother. "I'll find her soon. I've got an idea where she could be."

Sarah pierced him with a suspicious stare for a longer while. Derek expected her to ask what was the idea, he expected she would want to know where the damn machine is and _why_ exactly her son knows about it, while they had no clue whatsoever. She did nothing of the sort, however, only following him with her eyes as he ascended the stairs.

* * *

John looked with some surprise at the screen of his laptop, watching a map with a red dot that was Cameron's phone. He expected that his friend decided to use that time for something in her secret workshop, but it seems he was wrong. Cam, or at least her phone, was in a small bar in the suburbs, right now. For some reason, she also didn't answer the calls.

_I've got a bad feeling about this..._, he thought and took his jacket off his bed, putting the small pc inside and – taking it with him – walked out of the room, directing his steps towards the stairs.

"And?", his Mother asked, when he entered the living room again. "You know where she is?"

"More or less.", he replied. "She should be back soon.", he lied smoothly.

The woman's eyes narrowed slightly, her brows furrowing.

Lying to his Mother wasn't pleasant, but he knew that if what Cameron did right now had anything to do with her hideout, they could both get into some serious trouble if he told the truth.

"So... ? Where is she?", Sarah asked, still piercing him with a stare. "And where are you going?"

"I need to hit the store.", he replied, walking towards the kitchen table and taking the dead laptop off it. "Perhaps I can fix it yet, but I need some stuff. And Cam is driving around the city, searching for some sauce, or something, that you put on the list. There wasn't any in the first market, but a mission is a mission, after all.", he added with a slight smile.

_I'm sorry, Mom..._

"Tabasco... damn her...", she said.

Wasting no more time, the boy opened the door and walked outside with quick steps, aimed directly at the car parked at the driveway. His thoughts were already following different scenarios that could result in his friend not coming straight home, stopping at some shabby bar instead.

_I hope she's alright..._

Perhaps that was why, deep in his thoughts, he didn't see the danger descending upon him from the side. With a power and a vague scream of its owner, a mountain bicycle crashed into him, abruptly. The boy felt the strength of the hit, it threw the air out of his lungs, and then, he suddenly saw the world at a strange angle, gazing at a beautiful, blue sky.

"Ouch...", he groaned, when he finally realized what happened, lying on the grass and massaging the hurting side.

His eyes moved slowly, searching, and they finally fell on the bike's owner, lying nearby. The girl was more or less his age. She had long, thick, gold hair, that was spilled all over the grass right now, and big, now a little narrowed eyes, in a pleasant face. Her slightly heavy-built figure was complimented with a light shirt, that accented her breasts, and blue jeans.

"Damn..." she groaned, massaging her knee in a place where her pants were slightly torn, and then, she moved her gaze to him, as if she suddenly remembered he was there. "Damn! Are you alright?"

Her voice was like everything else. Nice, pleasant, with a delicate hint of mirth hidden somewhere inside.

"No...", he shook his head with a smile. "I'll live, I think. You?"

The blonde answered his smile with one of her own.

"Good.", she said, standing up slowly, and scowling slightly. "Stupid cow, that's what I am. I don't look where I'm going. I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright.", the boy shook his head again, his cheeks a little red. "I wasn't paying attention either."

"Well, yes. But I'm the one driving a dangerous vehicle." she replied funnily, pointing to her bike, and then walked to it, limping, and picked it up.

"What's with your leg?", he asked, watching her. "We've got a first aid kit in the house, if you want..."

"Nah, no use.", she stopped him. "It hurts a little, but it's nothing serious. I'll move it some more and it should pass."

She raised her gaze, looking in the direction of his house.

"So...", she started uncertainly. "You live here?"

"Yeah. I moved in recently. You're from here too?"

She shook her head slightly, looking back at him.

"No, I just deliver newspapers here, occasionally.", the girl answered, pointing to the bundle attached to the back of her bike. "Always a few dollars more."

"Ah, yes..."

_Normal life... normal people... normal job..._

He sighed quietly and picked his own bundle up from the ground.

"Well...", he started, uncovering both laptops and checking on them, to see if they suffered much, which thankfully wasn't the case. "I need to go, I've got something important on my head. It was nice meeting you, despite the circumstances." he smiled at her and turned back in the direction of his car.

"Wait!", he heard behind him and looked slowly over his shoulder.

The girl was staring at him, moving her feet anxiously and fingering the edge of her shirt with one hand.

"Do you want to hang out, sometime?", she finally asked. "To the movies, or something?"

His brows raised slightly.

"I'm new here too. In the city, I mean.", she explained. "I don't know anybody. It sucks."

He thought about it for a while. Bringing new people into his life was always troublesome, for them, or for him... usually both. The girl was pretty, however and seemed nice, and friends weren't something he had too much of, exactly. After all, what could be so wrong about befriending her, at least for a while? They didn't even have a terminator on their back, for all they knew.

_How to stop this?_, the question from a few hours before echoed in his mind suddenly.

He looked at the pretty, smiling face, framed with gold hair and, at the eyes, sparkling with sunlight and mirth.

Perhaps that was the way?

"Alright.", he agreed, finally. "Can you drop by tomorrow evening?"

The girl nodded her head readily.

"Sure, I can. Great.", her smile became even wider. "Super-great. Carrots and apples."

His brows raised slightly once more, this time in incomprehension.

"Just a saying.", he explained, reddening slightly and then, as if she suddenly remembered, extended her hand in his direction. "I'm Riley. Riley Dawson."

"John.", the boy replied, taking her hand and answering her contagious smile with his own.

* * *

Walking into the small, suburban bar, John didn't really know what to think about all of it. He couldn't came up with any sensible reason for Cameron to be in this type of a place. His amazement became even bigger – incomparably bigger – when he finally saw her.

His attention was caught by a loud laughter first. He turned in that direction, only the see an image of a girl, playing foosball with a friend. Her auburn hair danced in quick, energetic moves, eyes sparkled and the face was so full of mirth, that the boy stopped in his tracks for a moment, and looked at her, dumbfounded.

The girl hit again, jumping and trying to score one on her opponent. The room echoed once more with her laughter, which this time worked like a bucket of cold water for John, bringing him back into reality.

_What's going on here...?_, he wondered. _Why is she doing this? Is she trying to fool someone?_

He looked around, searching for a possible target, and finally setting his eyes on the girl opposite to his friend.

_Her? What sense is there in that?_

And then, Cameron jumped again, laughing loudly for the third time, and the boy shook his head in incomprehension. He walked towards her with quick steps.

"Cam?", he asked, coming closer. "Cam!", he added with a little more strength.

The heads of both girls turned in his direction. The blond standing opposite to his cyborg looked at her questioningly.

"Cam... what are you doing?", the boy asked the question whirling in his mind.

"Playing foosball.", she replied with a clear smile, and then, tilting her head in an almost known gesture, she added: "Do I know you?"

Surprising, what one question can do to a man. He felt a cold shiver running down his spine, and his heart seemed to stop for a few beats, only to accelerate dramatically, when chaotic, dreadful thoughts started circling in his head.

_She doesn't remember me..._, he thought with a mixture of despair and fear. _My Cam doesn't remember me..._

"I'm John...", he answered in a weak voice. "John...", _Connor_, he wanted to add, but stopped himself. "... Baum. Your brother."

The girl in front of him shook her head.

"I have no brother.", she replied simply.

"You do... You're Cameron Baum, my sister."

"No, I'm Allison. Allison Young. From Palmdale."

When those words reached him, his head swirled. Only the strength of his will allowed him to remain standing, when his legs suddenly became weak. _Allison Young...?_, he thought, shocked. _Who's Allison Young...?_

Despair enveloped him even more strongly and he felt his control slip slowly.

_I can't... I can't lose her..._, crossed his mind and he didn't even think about how it didn't fit with his worries earlier this day.

"You're not... Allison.", he said, taking her by the shoulders. "You're not human. You're Cameron and you're a machine. From the future.", he paid no attention to the look that blonde nearby gave him.

"I'm...", Cameron tilted her head and blinked. "... a what?"

"Don't listen to him, Allis.", the other girl finally joined the conversation. "He's nuts.", and then, turning to John, she added. "Listen, pal... I don't know who you are, but you should probably go now."

He stared at her for a moment, emotions exploding inside his heart, thoughts swirling inside his head.

"I've had enough...", he whispered softly, when despair took over. "We're going home.", he added, pulling his cyborg by the arm. Her face, however, twisted painfully in response.

And then, several things happened at once.

"Nooooo!", Cameron's – _Allison's_ – voice echoed in the small room, and John felt a stab of pain in the front of his chest. A moment later, his back also exploded painfully, when he crashed powerfully into the jukebox behind him.

_It really isn't her..._, he understood then, with pain both physical and emotional showing on his face. _It can't be her... Cam would never do something like that..._

A huge bodyguard, in black T-shirt and army trousers walked to him, his solid boots resounding on the floor with each step. He looked at the boy, his eyes hard under thick eyebrows.

"You should go now.", he said in a strong, deep voice.

The boy looked one last time at his friend, standing in the same place, shaking a little. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and her left hand moved nervously, clenching the fingers. _Like then... in the car..._ With nothing short of a shock, he also saw some tears in her eyes, and when his memory reminded him about the last moment he saw them, the boy's face contorted painfully.

Then, he turned back and walked out of the bar, thinking fearfully: _What now?_

_

* * *

_

Jody smiled slightly and looked secretly at her companion. Allison was strange. There was something clearly wrong with her head. Pieces of the past was all she had, and even that was still coming to her. Some birthday party in a park, several memories of her parents, some flashes of that old life, like a visit to zoo. Jody didn't know much about psychology, but she saw enough movies in her life to recognize amnesia. The girl was rather nice, though, and Jody felt good, being able to take care of someone even more pathetic than herself, for once in her life.

She spent whole day with the strange teen, ever since the time when, while in a supermarket, she saw a solid roll of hundreds in her hand. Luckily, she was close by, when Allison suddenly went nuts and drove her cart into a watermelon stand. Jody saw her chance and took care of the girl, before the cops came by.

Sadly, later, the money disappeared in the fat hand of her ex, but hey, life goes on. Jody had a new idea. Jody always had new ideas.

"I used to babysit for this family 5 years ago.", she lied smoothly, when they approached the elegant house's door, under the cover of night. "They were loaded."

Allison looked at the door in silence for a while.

"You said you moved here two years ago, from Michigan.", she noticed, uncertainly.

_Fuck... I'm not paying attention to what comes out of my damn mouth..._

"They usually hide it here, somewhere...", she said in return, looking for the key in a small box and ignoring the girl's remark with a premeditation.

Allison grabbed the handle hesitantly, then she pressed strongly, and Jody heard only the sound of a breaking lock, before the door stood open.

_Of fuck... she's really fucking strong for such a small gal... _, the street girl thought with a spark of fear and checked if her knife was in its place behind her back. _You never know. I need to be careful with her..._

"Sweet...", she mused aloud. "You're jacked, girl."

"Look for cash and jewelry.", Alison said in return, walking inside and looking around the house.

Jody, however, directed her steps right towards one of the wardrobes.

"Check this out.", she spoke, and opened the doors, revealing a small safe, built into the wall behind the furniture. "I saw the lady open it... and I memorized...", she focused her attention on the mechanism, turning a small knob. "... combination. ", the lock gave out a quiet click, proclaiming her success and the girl opened the door.

She reached inside, taking a small tray out, with different jewelry spread out all over it.

"Just put it all in the bag.", she said, without turning, handing her prize to the other girl.

Allison, however, held one of the earrings up to her eyes.

"What are these?"

Jody looked at her uncertainly, seeing a piece of jewelry matching the necklace that she put on Allison's neck before noon, after the girl saved both of them from a heavy beating, giving money to that idiot whose name Jody didn't even remember anymore.

_Damn her... how did she notice that in this much light?_

"Whatever", she said aloud, trying to dodge the problem. "Just put it in the bag."

"They are the same as the necklace you gave me.", Allison noticed reasonably and Jody cursed in her thoughts.

"Because I stole it when I worked here...", she tried to lie her way out of it.

"You said...", Allison replied, turning and walking a few steps. "I got it at this awesome triff store in Echo Park.", she turned back to her. "Tell me about the necklace."

Jody sighed quietly.

_Time... time... time... fuck!_

"Why are you making such a big deal out of this?", she asked, irritated.

Allison walked a few steps closer, and something on her face sent a shiver down the street girl's spine. She moved back unconsciously, hitting a wall with her back.

"Tell me about the necklace.", Allison repeated once more, a dangerous tune clear in her voice.

_Damn..._

"I didn't buy it, or steal it, ok?", she replied finally, masking fear with irritation. "It's mine. This is...", she added, and moved her arm around, illustrating. "... my parents' house."

Allison tilted her head slightly, almost invisibly. There was something in her eyes, however, that made Jody cringe.

"You lied to me...", she said, and the girl tried to move further away, in vain. She was starting to get the impression that taking care of this crazy bitch wasn't the best of her ideas.

"I'm from L.A., ok?", she answered hesitantly, shaking her head. "What does it matter anyway? Let's go."

She turned and tried walking away, but the damn girl blocked her way.

"Tell me who you are.", she demanded.

"I went to CalArts for 2 years.", Jody answered, sighing. "And got kicked out, which was for the best because the place is a..." she paused, looking for the right word. "...factory."

Allison circled around her like a wild cat, stalking its victim. Her hair moved like in a dance with each step, eyes glistening dangerously.

"And my parents cut me off, like yours." she went on. "They just... pretend I don't exist."

For a moment, their stares met in silence.

"We need to go.", Jody finally said. "Now."

Allison, however, blocked her way to the door once more.

"Why?", she asked.

Jody sighed quietly.

"Because there's a silent alarm, and we tripped it, when we walked in.", she replied finally. "Police will be here any moment."

Something crossed Allison's face, something that, once again, Jody really didn't like.

"You lied to me...", she said, moving two steps forward, and the street girl suddenly felt an iron grip on her throat. She choked, when her air was instantly cut off. "You weren't going to tell me. You were going to run, and leave me here to take the blame."

_God... ugh... where does she get... this... strength... from...? I'm choking..._

"You lied to me...", Allison repeated once more, and then Jody felt her world descending into infinite darkness.

* * *

Sarah was losing her mind, pacing nervously back and forth on the carpet, that just _had_ to have a trail left from her steps soon, if this continued. Her hair danced aggressively with each move, face was twisted into an angry mask, and dark eyes shot lightning bolts everywhere they landed.

Her son disappeared from the face of the earth, just as the damn machine. Theoretically, the boy went to the electronics store, and Cameron was shopping, none of them returned yet, however, and many hours passed since they left.

_What are they doing, damn it..._, she thought, ignoring her imagination, showing her several different, unpleasant answers.

"Calm down, already.", said Derek from the stairs, irritated.

"Fuck off?"

"Pacing back and forth like a wild cat in heat isn't going to get you much.", the man sighed tiredly, touching the subject for the tenth time this evening, at the very least.

"And what is?", she growled in his direction. "What the fuck is going to get m..."

Her explosion was suddenly cut off, when the door bell echoed in the room. Sarah raised her brows, Derek, on the other hand, looked at the watch and drew his Glock from behind his belt.

It was 10 p.m. Not really an hour for guests.

Sarah walked to the window and looked out cautiously.

"Some guy." she hissed quietly, taking her favourite Remington 870 shotgun from underneath the shoe locker. Then, she walked to the door and opened it, hiding the weapon on the other, invisible to the man, side.

The man standing on the other side wasn't of the youngest sort, but neither was he really old. His hair was cut short, and eyes, blue as the sky, had a piercing, intelligent look to them. He was wearing a worn-out T-shirt and jeans, and what showed underneath seemed very well built – the type of a man built from muscles created not by steroids, but by a gigantic, everyday effort.

Just as she opened the door, the man raised both of his arms above his head, so she could see clearly that he held no weapon in them, and spoke, in a powerful, hard voice.

"Sarah Connor?", he asked and then, seeing both her face and posture change, he added: "The new date for Judgement Day is 7th February, 2011. Your son sends me."

Her hand stopped mid-way, brows came up.

_Another traveller...?_, she managed to think.

And then, from behind her back, she suddenly heard Derek's honestly surprised voice.

"Bobby?", he asked in astonishment. "Bobby Johnson? What the hell are you doing here?"

**T.B.C.**

**

* * *

**

Afterword:

_Not that much to say, really, the chapter speaks for itself. Perhaps only that Riley's finally here. A lot of things will become complicated, or more complicated, in the coming chapters ;). And there's also Bobby Johnson. An observant reader will probably notice a slight twist on my part. Soon, more about the guy will become clear. I can say, however, that he's kinda my own answer for the bloodied wall in the basement._

_ Next: a lot of stuff :P_

_ Aquma, 15.08.2010._


	6. Chapter 6

Foreword:

_This chapter took me a lot longer than I thought. There were many reasons for this break, but I won't bore you with the details. I can't promise any regularity when it comes to the future releases. I hope I'll be able to publish a chapter every three weeks or so. What I can promise, however, is that they will still be coming out. They just may require varying amounts of patience... _

_ Also, I may be a little out of touch with translating, so you'll have to be patient with my mistakes._

_As for the chapter itself, just one quick warning: It's a hard one. Really._

_Aquma, 12.12.2010_

_

* * *

_

*** Interludium ***

_~ 7th November 2010 ~_

_~ Los Angeles suburbs, California ~_

The storm was raging fully. Wind tore at their hair and clothes, crashing heavy droplets of water on their skin and from time to time, thunders roared loudly around. Getting up from the mud, that his uncle's powerful kick threw him into, John Connor didn't pay any of this attention, seeing only his surroundings' tactical value. His body was protesting, bombarding him with pain from many injuries and bruises, but he ignored them too, with the help of adrenaline in his veins.

_I can't back out now..._ , he reminded himself and straightened, spitting some blood and wiping his mouth.

His opponent waited in front of him. He didn't try to take advantage of the situation, when Connor was lying on the ground, which meant that he either wanted to play fair, or learned to be cautious after – during the last time they were lying on the ground - the youngster proved to be technically superior, almost ending the fight with a painful grapple. Because, despite being physically weaker, John was perfectly used to fighting a stronger foe and knew how to use his speed and nimbleness to his advantage. He was able to escape when he needed to, while still having muscles powerful enough to threaten with a potentially deadly technique on an opponent's arm or neck.

Derek shook his head, staring at him intently.

"Why...?", he looked as if he was throwing something out, something that made him nauseous. "Tell me this, at least, John... let me understand".

In the bright light of a lightning, suddenly slashing the sky, his shrug looked kinda ghastly. For a slight moment every detail of his figure seemed to be emphasized by some strange, blinding halo. A second later, a low growl came from the sky, when thunder cought up to his bright, silent sister.

"You know the answer, Derek", words sounded after it. Quiet, but trembling with untold emotion nonetheless.

"No!", the older man growled, shaking his head furiously. "It's not possible. You're John Connor... You can't..."

"I'm quite aware of who I am!", he interrupted his uncle brutally. "Believe me! Neither of you would let me forget that, even for a minute."

"It wasn't our choice, kid", he heard an irritated response. "You think that your Mother wants that for you? That I wouldn't like you living differently? But you can't, John. It's not our choice. And what you do now... you can destroy everything, kid. Our whole work, sacrifice, lives of billions of people... Can't you see that?"

"I don't care. What's happening now wasn't my decision. It was yours".

"We didn't have a choice!"

He snickered, looking at the older man contemptuously.

"You had many. You chose wrong. You thought you can decide everything concerning my life, even without asking for my opinion", his eyes pierced his uncle's with a lance of blue fire. "But it ends now, Derek. From now on, every choice is mine to make".

"And what choices are those...", his uncle replied with a snicker of his own, showing everything around with his arm. "What choices, John? What if you don't make it in time? What if, in those three months you've got left, you won't be able to find her? How will you survive Judgment Day?"

"I'll worry about that when you finally leave me alone".

Derek's shoulders dropped. Looking at him right now, John was seeing a man that was losing his will to fight with each second, his anger being replaced by defeat.

"You'll kill us all...", he heard quiet, tired words.

"Let's finish this", he replied mercilessly, crushing any sympathy towards his uncle inside his heart, and replacing it with steel determination. He closed his fists, rising them to into a guard once more. "You've said it yourself. Time is not a currency I've got too much of right now".

* * *

*** Chapter IV ***

_~ 7th December 2007 ~_

_~ Los Angeles suburbs, California ~_

When John rushed into the half-dark living room, the scene that opened up to his eyes instantly froze blood in his veins. Cameron stood near one of the walls. The wind that his sudden appearance let inside tore at her hair, but she didn't pay it any attention, staring in turns at her raised, slightly twitching hand, and the small silhouette lying motionless at her feet.

_Oh God..._ , flashed through his thoughts and he dashed towards her. _Oh my God..._

"No, no, no, no... what happened... ", he started, kneeling down next to the body. "What did you do? Cameron, what did you do?"

For a longer while, she didn't respond. When she finally did, her voice was typical for her: calm and emotionless.

"We need to go", she ignored his question. "We need to go, John".

The boy shook his head unconsciously.

"Cameron... what happened here? What..."

"There is no time, John", she interrupted him, moving towards the door "Police will be here soon. We need to go", she repeated.

"Did... did you kill her?", he asked uncertainly through a barely working throat.

The answer to his question came by itself, however, as the girl chose this exact moment, when those words left his mouth, to suddenly take a deep breath, first in a while. Her eyes opened, wide with shock and terror.

"Apparently not", replied his cyborg without sparing the girl even a single glance and opened the door.

The boy looked at the slowly rising figure with a mixture of shock and relief. Then he turned and followed his companion with quick steps, walking straight to the car standing on the driveway.

When he shut the door behind him, with Cameron already sitting motionless in her seat, he looked at her briefly, started the engine and drove away. He didn't turn the headlights on, nor pick speed up too fast. Even while nervous he didn't forget all the lessons his mother taught him. _Loud engine and squealing tires draw attention_, he almost heard her words, _Just like bright lights._

They drove in relative silence, since neither of them spoke. The lights of nightly Los Angeles were flashing behind the windows, sounds of nightlife reaching their ears. His friend still sat motionless, in the exact same position he saw her in after entering the car. She looked emptily in front of her and her face was as empty as her eyes, devoid of all emotion.

"What happened there...?", the youngster couldn't bear it any longer. Cameron didn't respond in any way, however. She didn't reply, didn't even look his way.

"Cam...", he started once more. "Cam... talk to me".

This time there was a reaction. Auburn eyes moved slowly, piercing him with a stare.

"I don't know", she finally replied in two words, and his heart almost stopped in horror.

He didn't really know how to respond to that, so it was his turn to be silent, this time. His thoughts didn't waste time, however, running on their own, searching for possible answers. Those that were found, he didn't like much.

_How is it possible she doesn't know? Another malfunction?_

"You should leave me here, John", she spoke suddenly, kinda proving his fears. "Somewhere on the roadside. I could be dangerous to you".

He shook his head slightly, without turning his attention away from the road.

"I pushed you, John, I could hurt you. I don't fully control what I do, I am not myself, not 100% of the time. You should..."

He shook his head again, this time with an irritated sigh. Then he turned his eyes to her, green and burning with anger.

"Stop speaking bullshit", he hissed, interrupting her, and – strangely – it worked. His cyborg closed her mouth, tilting her head slightly. A small part of his mind expected a completely innocent, yet potentially very embarrassing question, but it didn't come.

"My Mother can never know about this", he started after a while, throwing stupid thoughts out of his head and turning his eyes back to the road. "Never, you understand? She can't, or she'll dismantle you, piece by piece and give you a hot, thermite bath".

She didn't respond, probably deciding that she already voiced her opinion in the matter – dangerously close to his mother's, too.

The boy took a deep breath. What he was going to do, he didn't like much. There was something in all of this that made him really uncomfortable. He couldn't circle in the dark without end, however. You need to understand where you stand, if you want to be able to safely find your way. _Even though, I still feel I'll regret it..._

"But I need to...", he finally spoke, grasping the wheel tighter. "I need to know what it all means, Cam..."

* * *

Powerful, muscular figure sat calmly on the little stool in front of her. Blue eyes followed both her and Derek with attention, and one hand was unconsciously playing with a spoon, lying on the table. Even in this nonchalant pose, he still seemed to be a hellishly dangerous man. Perhaps that was the reason for him to seem a little funny to her, in a colorful T-shirt and old jeans. Death, wrapped in an unfitting package. _Like a black panther in yellow coat..._

"General Connor sends me. I've got new orders for you, and a lot of information", the traveler repeated once more, moving his eyes over the room. "He's not here?"

"Where my son is, and where he isn't, lets leave for later", Sarah replied dryly. She didn't see any reason to pretend she trusts the man. "Whatever you've got to say to him, you can say to us too".

The man bowed his head slightly.

"I didn't mean to question your devotion, Mother of the Future. There are some things, however, that I can say only to the General".

Sarah's brows went up. She wasn't surprised by the way he referred to her. She heard the title, name - _hell knows how to call it_ - "Mother of the Future" before. More surprising was the fact, that the traveler obviously treated her son – here, still a teenage boy – like a leader. She couldn't help herself and crossed questioning stares with Derek. If the stranger noticed, he didn't comment in any way.

"The first and most important thing you need to know, is the date I mentioned already - 7th February 2011. Judgment Day".

_Just a little over three years_, came absently through her mind, _That's the time humanity has left... so little..._

"At most until the end of December 2010, you need to be in a shelter. Finding it is one of my primary missions here. There are several places that fit. I'll choose the best one and secure the terrain and needed supplies. You'll be notified when everything's ready".

It didn't escape her attention, that the man obviously didn't take into consideration that they might disagree in some way. Or, that to receive a mission like that, the man had to be someone exceptionally trusted. _He wouldn't put something so important in the hands of someone whose loyalty or abilities he didn't trust._

"If you don't receive any message from me until the end of October, consider me dead", Johnson spoke again. "In such a case, you'll need to get ready by yourselves. I'll give you the required knowledge".

She nodded her head reluctantly.

"It's possible, though, that the date will change", she noted. "Our struggle against Skynet may lead to that. It did in the past. It may even..."

"No, Mother of the Future. It may not", he cut her off, and her brows went up again. This time the surprise was mixed with a touch of anger. _Who does he think he is?_, came through her mind, but the man continued, unruffled. "There'll be no change. It's the second reason I'm here. John Connor wanted me to deliver this order to you".

"What order?", this time the question came from Derek.

"Judgment Day can't be stopped", Bobby replied, and his tone was such, that he seemed to be passing sentence. "Going in that direction is a waste of time. Forget it. Use your strength and resources to give us a better chance, instead. Places of strategic value, technology, people. Those are the things you need to secure. We can't save everyone. What we can do, is to make sure, that those who do survive, will have the best chance possible.

Sarah felt her head swirl. She put elbows on the table and took her face into hands.

From the very beginning, or at least since Cameron came and the nightmare started anew, all their efforts were concentrated on stopping the coming apocalypse. And now, this man, unknown to almost everybody, comes here and questions all of this. _It's like we didn't do anything, all this time..._

"Your actions postponed the inevitable", the stranger almost answered her unspoken thought. "Some things cannot be changed, however, and delaying them forever is not the answer. So says General Connor".

_He's reciting this... _, she suddenly realized. _Reciting words heard before..._

There was something very distressing in this, even though she couldn't say what exactly. Some kind of loyalty, that bordered – or what's worse, _didn't _border anymore – on something, that dangerously resembled fanaticism. Sick, unnatural loyalty. Her mind had too much to process, however, for her to have time to think about it now.

"So everything we did... it was pointless?", she finally asked, weakly, trying to hide her tiredness. "We were just wasting time?"

"No. You were _buying_ time", he pierced her with a stare. "Believe me, Mother of the Future, that's it's really valuable. Very, very valuable".

Uncomfortable silence flooded the room. It wasn't even caused by any deep awkwardness, more like lack of arguments. After all, he was the one that came from the future they were trying to change, the one that they created. His presence and words alone were proof enough that they failed. What could be said in a situation like that? _Perhaps it's really the time to change our priorities?_ , she thought tiredly.

Digesting this possibility took her a while, but when she finally spoke, her voice was hers once more – strong and full of hidden, inner power.

"Alright then...", she raised her eyes and pierced the stranger's with a stare. "Where do we start?"

"There's a place", Bobby Johnson replied calmly. "Power plant. It's called Serrano Point".

* * *

When Jody slowly got up to her knees, the sound of police sirens was already clear in the distance. She knew very well, that unless she wanted to have another contact with law enforcement, she couldn't stay much longer in this house. And she didn't want to meet the law. They were never on good terms.

She watched the dark SUV driving away, through door they left half-open. It moved slowly and without turning the lights on. She remembered what one of her boyfriends – an occasional burglar - told her about driving near your mark's house. You didn't use headlights to avoid waking the neighbors. Exactly like that SUV's driver did.

_Who the fuck are they, to know stuff like that?_, crossed her thoughts.

Her eyes fell to the ground, where jewelry was scattered in a seemingly playful way. Allison didn't take it with her. Only the damn necklace, the one she herself give to the girl, was missing. Jody gathered her prize quickly and ran to the room in the back of the house – one that once belonged to her. After opening the window she quickly jumped to the other side in one swift motion. Then, with a trick practiced hundreds or even thousands of times, she held the embrasure in the right way, and hit the windowsill to close the window shut behind her.

Fast trot between the trees took her to a fence, which she jumped over easily. She hoped finding her trail will take the cops some time.

_It didn't go so bad for me, after all_, she thought with satisfaction, weighting the purse, heavy with jewelry. And then, as she slipped it into her pocket, she suddenly felt something else. Her eyes widened in surprise, and a moment later a cruel smile crept onto her lips.

"Totally forgot about that", she whispered, raising Allison's phone in her hand. She took it while they were still in the bar, after it rang in the girl's jacket for the second or third time. She was still hoping to get that cash the weirdo was carrying with her, so she didn't want them to part ways too soon. Jody's fingers caressed the keys quickly, exposing a whole address book to her eyes.

_I'm John... John … Baum... _, she remembered the boy's words in the bar. The same boy that minutes ago entered her parents house and took Allison – _or Cameron, how he called her –_ she corrected herself.

"Nice to meet you, John Baum...", she murmured with a sinister smile, staring at the name on the list. "The pleasure is all mine..."

* * *

Colorful lights of after-hours LA flashed behind the window, lightening one side of driving John's face from time to time, and lightening sparks in his eyes. The second side was hidden in shadows which, along with the determination on his features, created quite a ghastly visage.

Cameron looked at him again, staring at his profile with those auburn pools with inhuman intensity.

"I need to know, Cam", the youngster repeated once more, his voice a little shaky. "If I'm going to protect you, I need you to trust me. I need you to tell me... what it all means".

"I told you", she answered after a while. "I don't know".

He only shook his head in reply.

"Don't play games with me, Cam. You don't know why, but you know, or at least suspect, what it was", he turned his eyes to her for a moment. "Am I wrong?"

She was silent for a longer while, looking out the window and emptily following surroundings with her eyes.

"No...", he could swear there was a touch of hesitation in that answer. "You're not, John. But it's not the right decision. I don't remember everything. As I told you, our memories are wiped out before the reprogramming. There are only fragments of code left. I can draw conclusions from them but it may not be a complete image. It may also be potentially dangerous. I may not be able to protect you, once you know it".

_Not be able? What the hell does that mean?_

"You'll hate me. You'll push me away from yourself", she clarified, surprising him with an answer to his thoughts once again. For a moment he looked at her with widened eyes. Then he shook his head.

_First she wants me to leave her behind, now she's worried I'll do so... _, crossed his mind, _Her actions are so inconsistent sometimes, so illogical, that it's a wonder she's a machine..._

"I still want to know", he decided.

She stared at him, still in that watchful but empty – _inhuman_ – his mind offered, way. She remained silent, however.

"You remember...", he resumed finally, after a while without a reaction. "When you wanted... after the explosion, when you malfunctioned... Do you remember what I said, when I helped you get out of your would-be coffin?"

"I do", she replied, nodding her head. "You said 'Are you here to kill me?'"

"And after that?"

"After that...", she paused. "'Promise?'"

The boy smiled slightly and nodded.

"You can do the same", he just said. "You can ask me for a promise. Friends keep promises given to each other".

For a moment she seemed to consider his words. He expected her to observe that from a logical point of view they were still just words, he expected that she'll reject his proposition. She reacted differently, however.

"If I tell you...", she finally spoke. "Do you promise you'll still let me defend you?"

The boy shook his head sadly.

"I promise".

Once again, long seconds passed in silence. Finally, Cameron shifted in her seat, turning herself more in his direction and focusing her eyes' stare at his face. It seemed like she reached a decision.

"Do you know why I look, like I do?", she asked quietly.

The boy nodded in response.

"To be able to infiltrate our kind well".

"No", she shook her head. "I look this way to be a perfect killer".

"That's what I meant, Cam", he agreed. "I know what Skynet made termina..."

"Your killer, John", she added, with eyes still on his face and the youngster felt a cold dagger of fear moving down his spine.

On one hand, there was no secret in all of this. After all, he knew from the very beginning that she was once a terminator sent to kill him. Like most of the others. On the other hand, though, to hear that from her this way... something in her voice made him believe those words meant something more. Something much more.

"There was a girl once", Cameron resumed after a while. "Allison Young".

_I'm Allison. Allison Young. From Palmdale_, he remembered her words in that bar, and saw a joyful girl smiling brightly and playing foosball with a friend, in his imagination. A dreadful suspicion started to creep slowly out of the corners of his subconsciousness.

"She was an engineer, in your resistance", his friend continued. "Talented, intelligent, she quickly established a position, despite being very young. At the age of sixteen she was able to put together almost any piece of junk and pilot almost every vehicle that could be found. Humans mature very fast, in the future", she added, as if in an explanation. "They have no choice".

He nodded his head once more, to show that he understands, and glued his eyes to the road.

Cameron kept her silence for a while, but he didn't protest. Partly, because he didn't see a need for that. Partly, though, because he was already starting to regret that he persuaded her to be honest.

_Allison..._

"You met her in 2026", she finally resumed. "She made a huge impression on you, very quickly. A short while later...", she paused.

"Continue, please...", he whispered, grasping the driving wheel harder.

"You became lovers", she added, at last.

He was expecting that, he suspected... but those words still hit him like a battering ram. He suddenly felt something turning inside his stomach, felt his head swirl and only through a titanic effort managed to safely reach the roadside and stop the car. He rested his head on the wheel, feeling all the fragments taking their place inside his soul...

_Oh God... no..._

"John...?", she asked uncertainly.

He was silent for a longer while, motionlessly digesting the information and feeling his judgment of many matters tremble at its root. Cameron watched him without a single word, sitting still in her seat.

"You can continue...", he finally managed through a hoarse throat.

She obeyed, her eyes on him still.

"She was taken at the beginning of 2027. Skynet knew who she was".

He couldn't stop tears, welling up under his eyelids. He only grabbed the wheel even harder and let them flew down his face unobstructed.

"She was interrogated for a long time. I... remember that. From both perspectives", his friend's voice was reaching him as if from behind a wall. "She never betrayed, not completely, but Skynet still managed to salvage a lot of useful memories from her. Along with the details of her personality, that, I can only presume, were entered into my chip's code, so that I would be able to imitate her as best as it was possible".

John swallowed hard, then moved his tongue over his lips. For a moment, he wanted to speak, but he changed his mind and just waited in silence, for what was bound to happen. Cameron stayed silent too, however, turning her eyes away and watching colorful scenery behind the widow.

"She died", a quiet voice finally reached him. "From my hand. I got every useful info I could out of her, along with a bracelet that let me enter your camp. Then I broke her ne..."

"Stop...", a whisper, delicate like a touch of wind, cut her sentence in half.

Silence that fell on the once again, was almost perfect. John was still sitting, with his head rested against the wheel, held tightly in hands turned white. _A woman died for being my lover_, circled inside his thoughts. _A young girl was tortured, analyzed, and then killed, so that Cameron could be created. A perfect copy, ideal killer..._ He almost heard the sound of a breaking spine, he almost saw Cameron – _his Cameron_ –mercilessly squeezing last droplets of life from her mirror image...

He didn't even know, when he found himself outside. Sharp stones painfully hurt his knees, when, kneeling on the roadside, he threw whatever was in his stomach out. Cameron, who came out soon after him, stood a few steps away, watching him carefully.

Several minutes passed, perhaps, before he got up unsteadily, with an empty face. He returned to his car without a word and shut the door close. Only when he was going to start the engine did he realize, that his cyborg was still standing on the roadside. He looked at her and, even though he really had no desire to do so, allowed their eyes to meet.

"Do you want to leave me here now, John?", she asked calmly, a quiet, colorless voice.

He hated every second that passed, when he tried to articulate his answer, in vain. Each of them teared his soul apart with a strange mixture of feelings he had for her. Sympathy, perhaps even love but also fear, returning with a new strength and – despite himself – something akin to... disgust.

"No...", he finally lied, turning his eyes away.

* * *

They came back very late. At first glance, Sarah noticed something was amiss, because her son was obviously avoiding his cybernetic friend with his eyes. The woman instantly started to wonder about this sudden change. This morning she would have to tear him away from her by force... _Something had to happen..._ , crossed her mind, leaving a growing anxiety behind. _God... did she try to... again? _Drilling the subject had to wait, however, because Bobby Johnson appeared on the stairs and she definitely had no desire to talk about her son's affairs near an unknown man. _And to hell with the fact that he trusts him, someday..._

Stranger's stare focused calmly on his future General and there was something mysterious in it. You could expect that a man in his situation would look for signs of future greatness in the young John Connor, for signs of the man he'll become. That he'll judge. Johnson did no such thing. There was no appraisal or evaluation in his eyes, but instead, they were full of some incomprehensible, inner glow. _The eyes of a fanatic..._ , she suddenly understood, and the same fear she felt when he was reciting orders, resurfaced again. _He's got the stare of a fucking religious fanatic, looking at an altar..._

If John noticed that, he didn't make it known. Calmly, he returned the stare, looking the older man in the eyes. Then he turned to his Mother.

"A traveler?", he asked, and the woman only nodded her head.

The powerful man started down the stairs, and Sarah instinctively felt herself stiffen, expecting despite everything, that he may yet make a false move. Nothing like that happened. After reaching the youngster, almost a head shorter then himself, the traveler straightened and hit his chest with a hard fist.

"Captain Robert Johnson, 'White Ravens' special forces, reporting for duty, General Connor".

She expected John wouldn't know how to behave, that he'll feel embarrassed by such an open salute from an older man. Her son, however, just nodded his head, piercing the soldier with an intense stare.

"What are your orders, Captain?"

"My mission is mainly tied to the logistics concerning Judgment Day. 7th February 2011 is the new date, General. I've given more specific data to your Mother, but I'll repeat everything of course, according to needs. First, though, I'll need to talk to you, sir", Sarah felt his eyes on herself and saw him nod delicately, as if in an apology. "Alone".

The youngster seemed to analyze his words or a while. His face remained impassive, so she couldn't deduce what played inside his soul. When he finally spoke, his voice was dangerously like Cameron's – calm, devoid of any emotion whatsoever.

"I understand, Captain", he replied. "Let's talk. My room should be fine".

Then he started up the stairs, followed by a shadow in the form of a cyborg, one step behind him. When he realized that, however, he turned to her and shook his head.

"Stay here", he said and his voice – to Sarah's complete surprise – was visibly cold.

"But..."

"It's a private conversation, Cameron. Stay here".

For a moment, they seemed to be talking in a silent conversation with their stares, so much meaning was behind them. Then, she obeyed and when he disappeared in the room, her eyes joined two other pairs, trying to drill holes in the closed door...

* * *

Foreword:

_So there you have it. A very, very dark chapter as you can see. But remember – after every night, sooner or later, there comes a sunrise :)_

_ As for other stuff, there's a return of my 'White Ravens' from the other story. _

Next: John fights a hard battle inside his heart, while the rest of the gang tries to secure an important place for the resistance... yes, it's about Serrano Point, finally :P. My little intrigue concerning Bobby's identity will also reveal itself. Along with some of his secrets...


End file.
